Three Thousand Miles to Something
by Whitelaceandstrange
Summary: Tess is a free spirited girl whose path has somehow lead her to Charming. Before she even finds the town, Jax finds her. All at once he becomes a profound and ever-growing presence in her life. Amidst the happenings of the MC and Tess's own tumultuous past, the two find their chemistry has left them to navigate uncharted waters.
1. 88

88 cuts and winds through rock and green, the blacktop faded to ash gray. Moisture clings to the air until it's burned up by California sun, save where the trees provide coverage, leafy shadows, patched and cool. This is Nor-Cal, after all. Eventually I slow down and turn off onto a winding backroad unknown to me and feel the temperature drop as I hit shade, the headlight of my Nightster cutting a pale, misty glow through the lay-lowing fog.

It's 5:30am. Morning has always been my favorite time of day. Beautiful, and as I'm reminded now, sometimes a little eerie. I left the shitty motel I spent last night in less than an hour ago, when the moon was still clinging to the sky. Usually the pastel colors of pre-sunrise coat my worries but today I can't seem to shake off the morning chill. Instinctively, my right hand tightens around the throttle, quickening toward the next patch of possible warmth and I course through the veins of a town I couldn't tell you the name of.

The road's still dead this time of day around here, a truth I was ignorant to until I left home in Connecticut a little less than 6 months ago and recently came to California. I had always thought of CA as being some massively over-populated state with houses and traffic and people around every turn—and SoCal definitely can be that—but here, up North, you can drive for miles in some places and not see all too much. It reminds me of home. Funny, isn't it, how you can feel nostalgia for a place you were yearning to get away from not so long ago?

It'll be a while before the first cars show the slow beginnings of a morning commute and by the time it hits rush hour—which won't be much in a town like this—I'll be at some diner or cafe having breakfast and figuring where I am and where I'm headed. Well, to be fair- I know exactly where I'm headed and it's awfully close. It's just a matter of how long I want to take to get there. The idea of abandoning my travels so soon hits too close to home this morning, and I take the exit back to 88 wanting to just ride a little longer, wanting to put off the idea of stopping at all, of making a new home, of Figuring Things Out.

Riding across the states these recent months has been a powerful anecdote to quell my anxieties, more than I ever could have anticipated in my choice to do so, but I know my arrival time is creeping up. I mull over the romantic nature of my journey thus far, then feel a little ridiculous for drawing parallels to myself and some character from a Kerouac novel. So I focus on the road again. It's getting lighter out but still there's no traffic.

Suddenly, I hear the rumbling of another bike. Glancing into my mirror, I see a single headlight coming up on me. Fast, and seemingly out of nowhere.

 _This guy is really moving._

Before I have time to worry too much, he zooms past me, flashing me a look as I stare straight ahead. His leather cut flashes "Mayans" as he leaves me in his wake. _Thank God_

There are a lot more MC's out here than where I'm from—but most don't want trouble with anyone, especially at this time of day and with some girl on a bike by herself who is clearly not affiliated. Still, I shake my head and slow my speed, not wanting to risk catching up to him at some point further up the road. Already far ahead of me, he turns a bend and is out of sight and I let go of a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

In general, I'm getting used to being on the road alone but I think all women can be brought down to reality regularly when they travel alone. Thankfully, thus far I've never had more than just a false alarm. My heartbeat begins to resume its normal pace...then I hear another bike on the road behind me and glance to my mirrors.

 _"_ _Jesus Christ_ _…_ " I breathe, tensing up. It's racing up from behind, the outline of another leather vest clear. There's a stretch of straight road behind me but he's already closed on the majority of the distance between us from when I first spotted him. _What the hell is going on?_ I focus on just trying to ride. _Slow a little, keep calm. I_ _'_ _m sure he_ _'_ _ll just pass me like the other guy_ , I try to convince myself in vain, my fear increasing when I steal another glance in my mirror and he's almost upon me, not to my left or right to pass me, but directly behind me.

He's on me before I know it, tailing my ass. Instinctively I move to the right, keeping my speed, but he mirrors my every move. I cut left, he cuts left; I cut right, he cuts right. He stays with me, must be almost touching my back tire. I pick up my speed again, putting some distance between us, but in a moment he's right back behind me.

 _I can_ _'_ _t believe this is happening_.

Finally, he pulls over to the left.

 _Maybe he_ _'_ _ll finally pass me_. But my gut's telling me that's wishful thinking. Still I slow down, hoping he'll leave me behind him but he slows too, now pulling up beside me, directly on my left. We ride side by side as I slow little by little. I don't dare look over at him.

We're going 40, and it's still feeling damn fast. I start slowing down more, but I know I'm not going to just lose him. I know he doesn't want to pass me by like the guy before. Somehow I know this isn't a false alarm. Seconds creep by painfully slowly as I wish I were in LA, or San Diego, anywhere but this stretch of road. _I wish I was in Connecticut, for crying out loud._ He's still right beside me, and I cannot ignore the sinking feeling of dread in my stomach as I stare head on. W _hat is he going to do to me? What does he want?_

I've been avoiding looking at him, but he's still right beside me and finally I just can't help it. I turn my head to look to my left just in time to see his leg kick out and make contact with my bike. In the fraction of a second before I crash, I can hear that he's speeding away, leaving me behind. A flood of relief washes over me. Then I hit the ground—a blur of leather, blood, and pavement.

* * *

"Don't fuckin' move her man! You don't know how bad she's hurt." I hear a voice say, then another, "She's out. Is she breathing? Is she _dead_?"

Good question. I stir, keeping my eyes closed. Whoever the voices belong to don't seem to notice, talking amongst themselves as I move my arms, bringing them to my chest, lightly pushing down toward my hips in pats until I reach the middle of my ribs and wince. For someone coming to, I feel surprisingly clear. Adrenaline maybe? Still, I keep my eyes closed and try to stay silent, listening for a few more moments as three voices argue over not moving me and finally, I decide they don't seem to mean me any harm. I open my eyes and see the three men in leather cuts all facing out to the road, their words too low now for me to hear. Their patch displays a reaper with the words "Sons of Anarchy" an MC which, unsurprisingly, I haven't heard of. I lift my head, looking at my brown vintage Frye boots and try to sit up with a light, involuntary groan.

"Jesus Christ." one of the voices breathes from behind me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on, hold on." from another, this one coming closer, "Are you okay? I don't think you should move..."

I look up at a fair haired man now kneeling above me and and furrow my brow.

Should I trust these people? _…D_ _o I have a choice?_

"I think, yeah," I answer and my voice sounds coarse and loud in my head, "I'm okay." I hear myself saying as I try to mentally check in with my body parts to see whether or not I'm a liar. "My leg…" I trail off.

The fair haired man above me, the only one I can see now from my angle laying on the ground, must be around my age or perhaps a bit older. 30, maybe. He's wearing a white t-shirt beneath his cut. His blonde hair comes just above his shoulders and his scruffy facial hair does no work to hide that he's tremendously beautiful. I try to evaluate his intentions by his facial expression while he looks down at the injuries I'm complaining of. Suddenly I feel a bit stupid and abandon my attempt at clairvoyance about this man's morality. I really don't do damsel in distress well—even if I did just eat pavement off my bike. I prop myself up on my elbows, looking at the damage too.

My jeans are torn along the outside of my right knee and halfway up my thigh, road burned and bloody. My old brown leather jacket, though worn, has protected me pretty well it seems. The mans gaze follows mine, _likely no stranger to road burn himself_ , I think as I take in the three bikes parked on the side of the road behind him. I assess my other side and notice similar injuries on my left hip, which now that I see, starts hurting too. I decide not to look for any more wounds for the time being. I know it could be worse. I'm lucky I was able to slow down as much as I did.

"Anything feel broken? How's your head? Your neck?" he inquires, and the energy with which he's firing off questions makes my head spin. His face shows genuine concern and I decide in the position that I'm in that I just have to trust him.

"Nothing feels broken," I say slowly, then quickly "I want this helmet off…" It suddenly feels heavy and claustrophobic and like I can't think or even breathe with it on. I sit up the rest of the way quickly and start to pull it off. I notice he looks anxious, his hand reaching out like he's going to stop me from trying to take off the helmet. I do it before he has the chance.

"Jesus Christ." comes from a voice behind me again and I turn to see who owns it.

I get this reaction a lot, especially from men who ride. I understand I don't necessarily look like most women who have a bike. Usually their surprise annoys me, but I look up to see that the guy already looks embarrassed at letting it slip. He's young looking, maybe of Latino decent with pretty, brown eyes, a short shaved mohawk and tribal tattoos on each side of his head. Beside him stands an older man with wild, long gray hair and a big belly. I try not to make it obvious when I look back to the blonde haired man and focus on the white letters, "SAMCRO" on the front of his vest. The "Vice President" patch then catches my eye. When I look back to his face, he's still taking in the blood on my hands and clothes. Then he starts to speak.

"I can call you an ambulance," he explains reservedly, "But we'll need to leave you here…" His eyes convey that he's trying to make me understand, to really listen to his words. Somehow, it makes me feel silly to still be sitting and I make to stand. It's not my most graceful act but I regain some composure, pick up my helmet and nod my head.

"Oh, yeah. Right," I answer. I get it. These guys don't want to be around when the cops show up. They're 1%ers, like the patches say."It's fine. I'm fine." I go on, then pause.

Honestly though, I'm fucking scared and before I even mean to, I spill my fear.

"You, just…you don't think they'll come back though, right? While I wait for the ambulance to show? I don't know how close the nearest hospital is, or how long it will take to get here."

Once I get the words out I instantly resolve that's as close as they're getting to being asked for help. I'm not going to beg these strangers to stay with me. Especially when it's probably them who somehow got me into this. I mean, what're the odds of all these guys in cuts at this time of day on this road? I know the name on the vests isn't the same as the two guys from earlier but who knows if they're allies or enemies or whatever.

"Wait… _what_?" The Vice President's harsh tone pulls me from my thoughts. Startled, I look to see his face has changed. He's infuriated. "Don't think _who_ will come back?" he spits out, though I can tell his anger is mixed with a type of embarrassment for not seeing the situation more clearly, and it all clicks. _He thought I just wrecked on my own!_ He must be able to tell my surprise at his change in demeanor and slows down, walks a little closer and looks me in the eye, "What happened? How'd you crash?" he's not demanding but he's hanging on for what I'll say.

I'm aware of the two other guys walking a little closer, both with their arms crossed, waiting for me to speak. The VP looks only at me, needing to hear me say what I can tell he already knows. I take a breath and look out to the road, unsure whether I'm even ready to relive what happened only what— _minutes_ ago? Depending on how long I was out for.

I resolve to keep it as short as I can. "I was riding…one guy came speeding past me on a bike. Soon after that another started tailgating me. Right on my ass. Wouldn't pass me, just kept my pace no matter what I did. I slowed down hoping he'd just keep going but he pulled alongside me and when I finally looked over at him he just…kicked my bike out. They were wearing patches too." I admitted. Then, as their stares remained on me I finally said, "Mayans? Or some name like that."

The VP pivots immediately, walking in the other direction. I watch him throw his hands up on either side of his head, which he is shaking back and forth, confirming my suspicion that them being here is somehow related to my crash. I hear the mohawk guy say "Holy shit.…" and the older guy just stays silent, watching the VP anxiously. All three look infuriated, but the older guy has worry mixed in with his anger.

"Jax. We gotta do something." he finally gets out.

The Vice President—Jax—looks at him, his face mixed with anger and some other emotion I can't put my finger on, something like disgust, and nods in affirmation.

I walk over to assess my bike as they talk in low voices, trying to see if there's any way at all I can ride out of here. Before I'm even over to it the tattooed guy yells over, "It's pretty bad…" I glance back at him and he looks embarrassed again. I feel sorry and give him a smile and shrug. He's right. My bike's not going anywhere. My dreams of simply riding away from this hellish morning in the way that is my specialty, are dashed. I drop my backpack off my shoulders in defeat.

I'm still looking at my bike and don't notice that Jax has left the others until he moves in front of my gaze, arms crossed.

"What's your name, darlin'?" he asks in a soft tone that seems surprisingly suited to him, and though normally a stranger calling me "darlin'" or anything close to it would make me cringe, he says it with an authenticity that makes me barely notice it tacked onto the end of his question. I let it dangle there before I answer.

"Tess." I offer, my eyes still on my bike.

"Tess," he repeats, like he's testing out the sound of it. Like he can derive something from it more than just the syllable that it is. Then with surety, he says my name again, "Tess…We're _not_ going to leave you here _._ " and it sounds a bit like an apology for him even mentioning leaving me before, as if he owes me something for assuming I dumped my bike of my own accord by hitting gravel or maybe just for getting me into this mess at all. Maybe he does owe it to me.

I don't answer. I've already mentally accepted the idea of accepting the help this time. At my lack of protest, Jax turns to the tattooed guy, "Juice! Stay with her. Call Prospect, have him bring the van. Load the bike and get her to the hospital. Bobby, you're with me. I want to catch up to them."

I can see the authority of his patch coming into play. 'Juice' is already on the phone.

"We're not going to catch up to the Mayans, they're long gone," the big guy—Bobby—tries to interject but he shuts up when the VP shoots him a look.

I'm beginning to notice I'm sore as hell and I'm suddenly feeling very hazy. I sit down on my tipped-over bike, trying not to think about getting into a truck with random 1%ers, which seems to be what I just silently agreed was about to happen. Jax walks closer to me, his voice lowered and I see a man who looks incredible guilty and somehow sad.

"We've got an auto shop," he explains, "it's not far. We can fix your bike. Your plates obviously aren't local. You staying around here?" It's clear he's trying to be gentle, and it's making me nervous. It feels too…real, somehow.

Like I always do when nerves hit me, I start unbraiding, then re-braiding the long, dirty-blonde plait that I always push to the right side of my shoulder. It's down to my waist and I stay quiet, waiting the moments it takes to finish the thick braid, then tie it with a piece of sinew, before I give him an answer.

"No, not really." I sigh, "I just got to California. Less than a month ago. I've just been…riding. I stayed at the motor inn outside of Lodi last night." I admit, not willing to give too much more.

"You're alone." he says it like a statement. I can tell he's got me a bit figured out, more than most people usually can with just a few questions—but then, he's probably gone on soul-searching solo rides himself. Still, I know he means it as a question.

I pause again, though not as long as last time. I want to look away but I don't as I answer.

"Yes. I am."

And maybe it's because it's the first time I've had to say it aloud, or because situations like accidents tend to make you more aware of being on your own, but suddenly I feel truly alone for the first time since I left home.

At hearing my words I see him discard the bewilderment of my situation from his expression and turn it into one close to resolve. He sets his jaw and calls out, "Juice!" but as he speaks he doesn't move his eyes from mine for even a second, "Wait for her at the hospital," he says with about the most unwavering surety I've ever heard, "she's going to stay at the clubhouse."


	2. Here

Juice and I sit on the side of the road waiting for the van as the sun finally gives some warmth to the day. It's still relatively early in the morning, the thought of which makes me tired. The adrenaline that made me feel so clear-headed despite having been knocked unconscious must be wearing off. _Adrenaline must also have been blocking my pain receptors_ , I note, wishing for perhaps the first time in my life that I was one of those women who carry huge, obnoxious handbags stocked with a pharmacy's equivalent or even that I was the type of person who took, and therefore _carried_ aspirin.

In an effort to forget the aches I try to wrap my head around the bizarre events of the morning so far and the equally strange situation that has been promised to me. I'm unsure whether the Vice President simply feels obligated to give me shelter because I was almost killed by what, from what I can pick up on, must be a rival MC, but I dedicate a few minutes of Juice and I's wait to scheming how to sneak away from him once we get to the hospital. I daydream of checking into a hotel and avoiding being put up at the clubhouse…I'm not exactly sure what a clubhouse even entails. _Maybe it_ _'_ _s a tree fort_ … I think, then laugh and shake my head which prompts Juice's, "Crazy, morning, huh?" to which I respond with a simple agreement of, "Crazy…"  
Anyway, I have a feeling these guys are good at taking direction from Jax…and Juice seems sweet and I don't want to make his club think he's incompetent of what must be, to outlaw bikers, probably a pretty mundane mission: keep an eye on a girl who can barely walk. I then also remember that they'll be fixing my bike and abandon any plans of attempted escape.

We've only been sitting maybe 20 minutes after Jax and Bobby took off after the Mayans when a big, matte black van comes around the corner and Juice stands up. This must be it. I follow suit, noting that my body is getting more achey by the minute. A young, scruffy guy with red-blonde hair and a nice smile hops out of the drivers seat and gives me a once over, taking in my shuffling like someone more suited to a nursing home than a Nightster and looks genuinely concerned for my well being. I assume this is Prospect. Glancing at my wrecked bike, he shakes his head.

" _Shit_. You okay, miss?" he asks.

"I've been better." I manage, and he nods then goes around the back of the van, confirming my guess at his title- the letters flashing, 'Prospect' on the back of his vest above the club's signature reaper that I'd never seen before this morning.

Once my bike is in, Prospect helps me into the van. Juice rides behind us on his bike and we settle into an easy silence. Before we even hit 30 we hit a bump and he shoots me an apologetic look upon my sharp intake of breath. I resolve to try to wince in silence before I give the poor guy a heart attack. He, like Juice, seems very sweet. My concern about having to stay around them at their clubhouse begin to fade. He tells me it's about 15 minutes to the hospital and I give him a nod. I look out the window at the beautiful day it's become and wonder exactly where in San Joaquin County we are. As if in answer, to my right we pass a massive slab of wood acting as a sign, the outline of what must be the trunk of a redwood stamped in Western-esque, white letters. The words " _Welcome to Charming_ _"_ hit me like a slap in the face. _"_ _Holy shit_ … _"_ I gasp.

Prospect gives me another worried glance.

 _What are the odds of this? Is this where we_ _'_ _re going? He said it was only a 15 minute drive. It must be._

"Did I hit another bump?" he asks and I try to clear the shock from my face.

"Oh, no. I'm fine. I just…I've heard of this town. I'm surprised, that's all. I didn't know how close to it I was."

From what I can see Charming is a small town, much like the one I'm from. So, my 'hearing of it' will probably strike him as a little odd. Unwilling to discuss the details after an already exhausting morning, I decide to ask him a question before he can think of any for me.

"So the hospital you're bringing me to, it's in…?" I lead.

"It's in Charming. St. Thomas Hospital, it's the only one we've got. Don't worry we're almost there." he answers, seemingly convinced my question was just a matter of how long we had to arrive.

I nod and try to wrap my brain around my arrival in the small town whose name has been hanging over my head for the last 6 months, since I knew I would be coming here. _Living here_. Most of my ride across the states has been weaved through with my trying to decipher _how_ I feel about it. Procrastinating, like I was so set on doing this morning when I took that exit back to 88 is now a stolen option. I've got about 10 minutes to figure out whether I'm ready. _It doesn_ _'_ _t matter whether I_ _'_ _m ready_ , I think. _The universe is ready for me to be here, so here I am_. Things happen for a reason, right? The world loans you to where you need to be and where you're needed. I've seen enough to believe in that. So all I need to do is Be Present, a mantra I try to live by, and which today is feeling a bit like a cage.

The idea of a fresh start, an escape, a refuge— in a town so unknown to me that it may as well have been a dream until right this very moment has terrified me about as often and as equally as it has brought me comfort. If I could have just talked to Charlie more these past few months I think it would have been less daunting. We could have dreamed about the life we'd make in Charming; About how, together, we'd finally be separate from the differing and tragic losses we've both separately endured. If only she had beaten me here somehow, but I know I still have at least another month, maybe two, before Charlie can get here. As it is I've already cheated-jumpstarting my next chapter by riding out of Connecticut state lines, while she had to live these months in limbo. I kept running, kept riding, to delay another beginning without her-the woman who, though we are both now grown, will always be my big sister.

All at once I am hyper-aware of the comfort I find in the simple thought of Charlie and overwhelmed with a want to provide her with the same sense of sanctuary she has always brought to me just by existing. And in that moment I see clearly—the way we humans, if we're lucky, sometimes do—that I am just where I'm supposed to be, right when I'm supposed to be there. In a small, California town almost 3,000 miles from what used to be home that I likely crossed into in a wash of blood and fear and confusion. And before I can think anymore how crazy it all is, how crazy life is-we pull into a parking spot near the ER entrance and Prospect proclaims the words, "We're here." waving his hands in a show as if to say: ' _this is Charming_ " or, ' _Well, here it is_ ' and I can tell he's probably been born and raised in it because he says the words like small town people say ' _We_ _'_ _re home_.'


	3. Making Room

2 fractured ribs, road burn, and a mild concussion.

After various nurses and one doctor tells me how lucky I am, they finally given the okay to leave. I slip on my jeans, and thin gray t-shirt and grab my jacket off the hospital room chair and push out the door. I _hate_ hospitals. I'm half speed-walking, half-hopping down the hallway trying to shove my socked foot into my left boot and still carrying my right when I see Juice sitting on a bench a few rooms down flipping through a fitness magazine and looking bored. He looks up as I pull on my other boot and throw on my jacket.  
"…Ready to go?" he laughs, giving me a 'you're a crazy person' glare.

"I hate hospitals." I shrug and he plops the magazine onto the table beside him.

"So what's the verdict?" he asks standing up, and I relay my mostly-minor injuries as we walk back through the series of hallways to where we came in the ER waiting room a few hours ago.

"You know where the nearest pharmacy is?" I inquire, holding up the prescription for pain medicine I've been written as we step through the glass doors and out into the day.

"It's on the way." he smiles and opens the van door for me and I climb inside.

I try to position myself in the seat so as to cause my ribs the least amount of pain while Juice gets into the driver's seat, starting the van.

"So where'd your bike go?" I ask as we pull out of the hospital parking lot.

"Prospect took it back to the shop so I could stay." he explains, and I understand that Jax asked Juice to stay with me and that's exactly who did.

We go to the pharmacy and thankfully only have to wait a few minutes as they fill my prescription. Once we've been on the road a few minutes I tear the bottle from the stapled white paper bag and eye it warily.

"Not your thing, huh?" Juice guesses.

I smile and shake my head.

"I barely take tylenol. This'll probably have me on my ass."

He moves his hand to the indicator and slows the van,

"Well, you'll fit right in." he laughs, and we pull into what must be Sons of Anarchy headquarters.

* * *

It's about 11:30am and there's an array of motorcycles lined up beside the chain-link fence toward the right of the clubhouse parking lot. Straight ahead is the auto repair garage, the name "Teller-Morrow" in big, red letters dominate the sign. Three garage doors are pulled up to show various mechanics, most in leather cuts, working on cars and bikes inside. We pull into a space close to the garage where there's a gap in bikes and Juice kills the engine. People are already staring at the van, probably well aware of the events of the morning and the random girl who Juice had to accompany to the hospital. Whatever nerves I had quelled with how nice he and Prospect seem are back in full force. _What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

Juice is already out and on his way over to help me down. I push open the door before he makes it to my side and lower myself onto the blacktop as gently as I can manage, thankful for the van still being between me and the sets of curious eyes in the garage. Seeing that I'm already safely out, Juice goes around to open the two back doors, displaying my mangled bike laying on its side in the back. Any hopes at not drawing a crowd disappear as the mechanics walk over to get a glimpse of their next project. I'm almost too caught up in my sadness seeing my bike again to notice them looking at me.

"Well, shit." says a tall, muscular guy walking up. He has a beard and is wearing a beanie and, like most of the people surrounding the van, is wearing a Sons of Anarchy cut.

"Hey, Op," Juice greets him.

"You alright?" the man looks from the bike back to me, ignoring Juice's greeting.

"Yeah I'm okay. Thanks." I answer. He doesn't look convinced.

"Get one of the girls to bring her in. Jax said she could have his room while she's here." he relates to Juice who nods and abandons us, walking over to the building behind me that I'm guessing is the clubhouse.

"That's a beautiful bike." the guy—Op?—says to me, moving stuff out of the way in the back of the van as he and a few other guys get ready to move it.  
"She was prettier this morning," I tell him, stepping out of their way. This gets a few laughs and I watch as they unload my bike. Then an older, red haired woman appears at my side, Juice trailing behind her from the clubhouse, then making his way over to help the guys with my bike.

"C'mon sweetie, let's get you inside." she says, giving my elbow a slight tug. She's scantily clad in short denim shorts and a ripped up black tee, probably in her forties. I follow her across the parking lot toward the building her and Juice just came from labeled 'Sons of Anarchy M/C.'  
We pass a few picnic tables under an awning and I follow her through the clubhouse doors.

The oversized room we enter into boasts worn hardwood floors and paneled walls and the warm, faint smell of whiskey curls around us as the door behind me closes. Round wooden tables are placed throughout the dimly lit room with varying mismatched chairs. Against the walls are armchairs and couches and the walls are speckled with various old photos, some framed, some taped up depicting harleys, women, and men engaged in various activities, most wearing the tell-tale reaper cut. To the back right is an oak bar lined with black leather stools behind which a pretty, young girl leans tiredly, scrolling through her cell phone. She looks up at us curiously as we walk through the room and toward the hallway. She gives me a smile, which I return, thankful she's the only one in the room. We walk past an array of framed mugshots displayed on the back wall and an old sea foam green knucklehead parked on a stand inset to the wall, an American flag lit up and acting as a backdrop.

"This way," the woman guiding me encourages, and leads us down a hallway lined with doors on either side, some of which are slightly ajar. I'm surprised to see bedrooms. I didn't know what to expect when Jax said I'd be staying here. I guess I didn't realize members had bedrooms at the clubhouse.

Halfway down the hall we stop, the woman unlocking a door on the right before handing me the key.  
"This is Jax's room." she says kindly, "You can stay in here. Cherry will be out at the bar if you need anything. Do you have a concussion?" she asks, and I can't help but be a little overwhelmed by the kindness of all these people thus far.

"A 'mild' one." I answer.

"I'll check in on you." she promises. "You should get some rest while you can, sometimes it gets loud in here." she suggests, and walks back toward the main room leaving me alone.

I call out a thank you after her and am then left to stare at the unlocked door, feeling a bit like I'm not supposed to enter it. My fatigue and the promise of further privacy finally get the better of me and I turn the knob and push it open.

I step into the vice president's room, shutting the door behind me. I drop my backpack and scan my surroundings. To my right is a wooden desk and a chair with a black hoodie draped over the back. A twin sized bed is nicely made with plaid blankets. Across the room is a dresser, on top of which are framed pictures, men's rings, cologne and a small pile of spare change. To the back right is a door left slightly open, through which I can see a toilet. I walk over and push it further open and feel like I could cry tears of joy when I see a small shower inside of it. I sit down on the bed, the promise of a hot shower overwhelming any sense of strangeness about where I am and why I'm here. I abandon my boots by the small end table and peel off the layers of clothing dotted and streaked with my blood, letting them fall into a pile beside the bed. In the bathroom, I turn on the shower and unbraid my hair, then shut the door and let the room fill with steam.

When I emerge from the bathroom a good time later I feel worlds better, but the warmth has made me tired. I find a towel hanging on the door and feel a little sorry for using it, but shake it through my hair anyway and when that makes me dizzy, wrap it carefully around my bruised body. I shove my dirty clothes into my backpack, not wanting to make a mess of the room and see a glass of water dotted with condensation on the end table with my pain medicine displayed neatly right beside it. One of the women must have put it there when I was in the shower. I rifle through my pack and finally find my cellphone, which I toss onto the bed. I continue my search through the bag halfheartedly, the thought of putting on a tight tank top or any of the clothes I have with me pulling my gaze over to the big, comfy hoodie on the back of the chair. I walk over to it and pick it up, finding beneath it an oversized black tee shirt. The front is plain but the reaper is displayed on the back like it is on the cuts on the club members, the MC's name, of course, written in white above it. _He_ _'_ _ll never know,_ I tell myself, as I toss it on the bed with my phone and zip up my backpack, then pull it over my wet hair, letting the towel fall to the floor before hanging it to dry where I found it.

Finally, I plunk myself down on the bed and gasp at the sharp pain from my two fractured ribs. I stare resentfully at the bottle of pain pills on the table beside me. I read the dosage, unscrew the bottle and carefully tip 2 pills into my palm. Tossing them into my mouth I put the cap back on and wash them down with a huge swig of water. I hate taking pills. The alarm clock on the table tells me it's still early afternoon which seems an absolute impossibility. I peel back the blanket and sheets and climb inside feeling like I may be in heaven. I lay there for a few minutes toying with whether I should call my sister. But already, the pills have taken their effect. My body feels heavy but also like it's floating or maybe sinking into the bed and my eyelids fight to cover my eyes as I drowsily grab my cell phone. I scroll down to Charlie's name and push to message her, knowing that if she hears my voice now she'll know something's up and I'm too tired to explain it all right now. I type, fighting to keep my eyes open.

'Charlie. I'm in Charming. Miss you. Love you.'

I feel a small victory as I finish the text and hit send, then give into the warm black pull that washes me into a heavy and dreamless sleep.


	4. Dreams

_JAX_

The sun is going down as I pull into the SAMCRO parking lot. I park beside Bobby's bike, kill the engine, and sit. It's a nice night and people are crowded around out front of the clubhouse rather than inside. _That_ _'_ _s good. Maybe the girl_ _'_ _s getting some sleep._

I needed a ride this afternoon after we failed at finding the Mayans. I knew we wouldn't catch up to them just as much as Bobby did but Bobby also knows that I couldn't just sit there. Once we called off looking for the day he understood I wasn't ready to go back, that I just needed to ride it out and he took off back to the garage and left me on my own. That was hours ago.

I get off my bike and make my way toward the clubhouse, saying a short 'hey' to Clay and Happy and giving them a nod so as to say 'we'll talk later' then head inside to get a drink.

"Jackson! Long day?" Tig half-shouts, sitting beneath 2 women on one of the back couches. Red's the older one, she's around all the time, part of the family. Her and Tig kind of have a weird thing. Which is the only kind of thing Tig seems to have. She starts disentangling herself from him when she sees me, leaving him with only one girl, some crow eater I've never seen before. Not unusual.

I keep walking to the bar, knowing Red will catch up with whatever update she has on Tess.

"Jack or beer?" Cherry asks as I take my place on one of the stools.

"Howabout both?" I smile.

"Sure thing." Cherry starts to pour as Red takes a seat beside me.

" _Jackson_ ," she starts, "I've been checking on the girl. She's _fine_. She's in your room, asleep." she explains in a motherly tone that's slightly less endearing due to her slur.

"Thanks, Red." I kiss her on the cheek and she smiles and nods, then makes her way back over to Tig.

I look off down the hallway, wondering if Tess is still asleep as Cherry sets down my beer.

"She's pretty, Jax." she glances knowingly over at me, a smirk playing at her mouth as she wipes down the bar.

Cherry is Prospect's, or as we more lovingly refer to him, Half-Sack's, girl. Used to be a sweetbutt for the Devil's Tribe MC but followed us home like a stray when she fell in love with Sack. She's a good girl, and once her and Gemma got over their differences, she became part of the family too.

" _Stunning_ , really" she goes on, "I can only imagine what she looks like when she hasn't wrecked her bike…" she teases.

I give her my best impression of innocence,

"Really? I didn't notice." then shoot my jack in one long swig, and give her a wicked grin.

She tilts her head back and laughs, saying a long, "Ohhh boy…" as I push back my stool and walk away smiling.

I head up to the roof and pull out my father's manuscript from my backpack. I light a cigarette, the glowing ember taking over for the fiery the sun that's giving the day away to night.

I pull in drags as I read my father's words, recounting the club he knew years ago the same as the one I know today. I look down at Clay laughing into his beer at the table outside below, then back to the written lined warnings in my hands. Warnings of a brotherhood that will be torn apart by violence and by greed. I feel the fear and desperation today that my father felt yesterday at losing his club as his club loses its way, as it becomes the kind of club that puts money before its own brothers, that gets people killed and wrapped up in situations they could not ever fully know or hope to control. _The kind of club that almost gets an innocent woman killed_ _…_

I lean my head back against the brick and exhale smoke into the blue night, then stub out my cigarette and push the manuscript into my backpack before slinging it over my shoulder and head back inside.

Things are getting going, a typical Saturday night at the clubhouse. Most people are still outside, which I'm thankful for. But randoms and crow eaters filter through the door and Cherry has recruited some of the other girls to help her out behind the bar. She notices me and hands me a beer and another Jack and I retreat to a table in the corner at the back and light another cigarette. It's less than a minute before Opie takes a seat to join me.  
"Hey brother," he says clinking my beer then taking a drink off his.

"Hey Op," I smile then laugh as he stares me down. " _What_?" I finally cave.

"Uh, that girl. The blonde one sleeping in your bed right now, who crashed _her very badass custom nightster_ this morning. Jesus Christ, man." he laughs.

"Oh, you mean Tess?" I smile.

"What're ya gonna do about that?" he jeers, but his smile fades as he watches mine wash away.

"I dunno, man." I answer, "What can I do? What situation am I in to do anything? A club VP with a crazy, knocked up, ex-junkie, ex-wife?"

"Come on man." Opie gets serious on me, gives me a slap on the shoulder as he gets up and finishes the rest of his beer. "You know enough to know things don't work like that. Things don't line up perfectly. That don't mean good things can't happen."

"Yeah. Who knows." I nod.

"I gotta get home. Donna's called about a million times. Look at what you could have to look forward to…" he laughs.

I shake my head, "Later brother."

Once Opie leaves me at the table the usual happens. Crow eaters zoom in on the VP patch and come looking for something I'm not willing to give them. Well, not tonight. I look over to see Cherry whose lending me an apologetic look as I usher away 2 particularly drunk brunettes making vulgar promises they'd probably cringe at in the morning if they remember it.

Needing some peace and quiet I make my way down the dark hallway. When I get to the door to my room I push it open slowly, wondering if the girl from this morning is still asleep.

The light in the bathroom is on, casting a pale thin sliver onto the bed. She's sleeping soundly. I push in quietly and shut the door behind me.

Long, blonde waves fan across the pillow and sheets she's wrapped up in on her side. Her right arm is draped across her body, her suntanned hands decorated with stacks of silver rings. The room smells like my soap and I can see that her hair is still faintly wet, the fabric of the pillow beneath her head slightly dark with water. I quietly pull back the chair at my desk, settling into it, holding my breath when I lean back and it creaks. I can't help but let out a soft laugh and shake my head at myself, eyes still on her. Normally women don't make me nervous, especially not when they're sleeping.

I slowly unzip my backpack and take out the manuscript once more. I let its words fill me again, every once in a while looking up, my heart jumping each time a glass breaks or a song changes or someone gets too loud, to see that she's still asleep and hasn't been disturbed, but also to see that she's still there at all-that she still exists, each time half expecting her to be gone, to have disappeared like an angel on short loan or some kind of goddamned holy ghost.

And half the night beats by like that, my heart stopping and restarting over and over again, and her sleeping on, seemingly indifferent.


	5. Swimming

I am swimming beneath a teal gray sea, alone and naked. At first when I look up it is the same color as the water around me and I swim on, but then notice this is wrong and glance upward again and the sun can be seen glimmering on the water above me. Then things change; the mood changes, and in a panic I know I must reach the open air to stop something terrible but it's far away and I won't be able to make it in time. I'm running out of air and the glimmering water is nowhere to be found and my bearings are lost; I've no idea what is up and down, right or left in this darkening sea. I know I need air and come to realize that I am rapidly sinking into colder and darker water. When I don't think I can take another second of the feeling of it all, I wake up.

—

I gasp in air and shoot upright from the strange nightmare, chilled and try to take in my surroundings.

I hear a chair push backward against the floor and a familiar voice, "Tess," comes from across the room in the vicinity of the glowing red end of a cigarette.

I start again, trying to let my eyes adjust. As they do, they focus on Jax Teller, apparently sitting on pins and needles, leaning forward elbows on his knees and hands intertwined in the wooden chair before his desk.

I glance over at the clock that tells me it's 2:00am. There are muted voices coming from down the hall.

"I'm sorry to be in here…" Jax begins, "There aren't many places to hide here and I couldn't take the noise tonight. I thought I could read in here for a bit before things settle then sneak out. I didn't think I'd wake you."

My eyes find his reading material on the desk, a thick stack of papers clipped together next to the ashtray he's stubbed out his smoke in.

"No," I finally protest, making to stand, "It's okay, of course it's okay. It's your room."

I swing my legs off of the bed, then notice that they're bare.

 _His fucking t-shirt. I_ _'_ _m in my underwear and his fuckin_ _'_ _t-shirt. That I pretty much stole. Jesus Tess_ , I think to myself… _when will you ever learn boundaries?_

At the same time I am internally cursing myself I decide it's too late. It would look weird to pause now that I've already started getting up, rewind, and get back beneath the covers. Of course I left the bathroom light on, which means it's bright enough in here that we can see each other pretty well now.

I get up, his shirt moving down my body after probably giving him a glance at my underwear, but once I shift off the bed it covers everything, at least. I'm not shy but still feel my face redden.

"I…stole your shirt." I say, standing awkwardly before moving to my backpack. "But I was going to give it back. _Am_ going to. I'm going to give it back to you." I start rifling through my bag looking for clothes to change into and hear him laugh.

"You can keep the shirt. Seriously I've got a million of 'em." he offers, then the smile disappears as he takes in my anxious movements, "What are you doing Tess?"

"I want to give your room back. I've intruded enough. You shouldn't be sitting at your desk trying to be quiet in your own space." I meet his eyes now, hoping he will see my gratitude,

"Jax, thank you for all of this and for helping me today. I know there is a lot that I don't understand about what happened but I do understand that you didn't need to be so kind. I've been out here alone for long enough to realize that a lot of the time it doesn't go like this." I pull my jeans and a lose fitting white tee from my bag and stand from my crouch.

I turn to see Jax looking confused and exasperated, making to stand. "You're not intruding. It's 2 o'clock in the morning…Where are you going to go?"

His question hangs in the air as I try to think of something that doesn't sound idiotic. I was going to find a hotel, but of course I'd have to walk there. Unless Charming has cabs, which I doubt. Deep down I know he wouldn't let me walk out of here like this but I just feel…intrusive and it's all so intense. These months on the road have got me a little unused to the feeling of being cared for at all I guess, and of how to accept it gracefully. Before I can work out a reasonable response, he starts again.

"Stay. Please. You're not intruding, I promise you. Things have quieted down out there, and I'm going to get going anyway. I want you to stay here." he gives a small smile, trying to encourage me.

I stare at this beautiful man, somehow feeling he needs me here tonight as much as I logistically need to be here. I fight the urge to let the quickness of my heart entice me to look away from his stare, so we keep our eyes on each other in the faint light, him standing before his chair and me beside the bed, unsure. Finally I toss my clothes into the backpack and sit on the bed, pulling the blanket over my legs.

He said he was going to leave and although he has not yet made a move to do so, I rack my brain for something to say to put his leaving off. I look down at the blanket, aware his eyes are still on me and pull at a thread.

"You didn't wake me." I finally say.

I hear the familiar sound of a lighter flick open and ignite, then creaking as he settles back into his chair and look up to see him taking a long drag, looking serious as ever.

"No?" is all he says.

"No." I answer, "I was having a dream. Or nightmare. It's what woke me."

I look up to see him nodding, staring down at his cigarette. "Was it about today? The crash?" he asks, not looking up.

"No," I answer simply, "It wasn't about today. I just…have it sometimes."

He nods and looks guilty and sad and something inside of me wants more than anything to take that away. I barely know this man, even have reason to believe he may not be good but still I want deeply to see him whole, unhurt, still I can see that he is not those things now. How can that be?

"How are you feeling?" he asks, I see him eyeing the medicine on his nightstand.

"Tired!" I laugh and he smiles in spite of himself. "I can't take that stuff. I get so out of it. I'm surprised I even dreamt tonight."

"Juice said concussion, what else?" he grows serious once again.

There's no sense in hiding it, he must have already seen the severity of the roadburn on my legs when I stood earlier. "Roadburn on my legs…and hands," I flash my hands around to him quickly, "Two fractured ribs." He just nods.

I settle my back into the pillows, feeling the drugs trying to stake their claim on me again.

It is silent in the room, but I can _feel_ him and I think he can feel me. It's as if there is a buzzing between us and I think about how I have heard people describe that feeling before. I let the quiet last a few moments, the words I want to say formed and twirling through my sleepy head.

"Do you want to sit with me?" I ask, eyes closed to keep myself brave.

He doesn't answer, but in a moment I hear the chair push back and the electric feeling is hard to stand when I feel him settle at the end of the bed. I look to see him leaning forward, elbows on his knees just looking back at me. I return his gaze for a second then close my eyes again.

"…Do you want to read to me?" I ask, then nod over at the direction of the desk, where the stack of papers he mentioned earlier sits. "Only if you want to." I add turning myself to my side wincing and catch his look of quiet concern. Lowering myself carefully, I curl up and close my eyes once again, wondering what he will decide and whether I will be awake for it.

It must be a full minute later when I hear him grab the material off the desk and very quietly start, "The Life and Death of Sam Crow…" and his voice and words keep me between sleep and wakefulness for some while. A few times, I fully doze off and awake again to his voice still steady, pages and pages of white paper flipped. I don't ask him who wrote them or what it all means, I just let him read.

When I awaken it's not to the sound of his voice but of an engine, turning over and driving off. I look to find the clock reads 4:00am and Jax gone, as I knew he would be. The heaviness of his words and his presence linger in the room and I let the feeling of it blanket me but that's the last I get of any sleep.


	6. Paths Traveled

By 6:00am I've been laying awake for 2 hours, staring up at the ceiling. A few faint rumblings down the hall that quickly die down lead me to believe that whoever is left over from last night is still asleep. I'm strangely comfortable in this strange place, this strange bed.

It's the thought of a cup of hot tea or coffee that finally gets me to stir. A glance in the bathroom mirror reveals kinky waves and spirals that are my hair when it's left to air dry, then slept on. I comb my fingers through it a bit, push it to the side and work it into a long braid, untying the piece of sinew from my wrist and knotting it at the end. After a few more minutes I've splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth, and applied brown mascara. These days riding in the sun has left my golden hair with natural highlights around my face and despite my responsible daily dousing of SPF, I'm quite tan. Perfect for quick morning rituals.

After making sure Jax's towel is where I found it and the bathroom is tidy, I make the bed and throw my things into my bag. Finally, I pull off his teeshirt as lightly as possible and replace it with a bra, loose white tee, and jeans, finally pulling on my socks and boots. Exhausted again by my aches and pains, I sit back down on the freshly made bed and wonder for a brief moment why I'm not still in it.

I think I can hear voices coming from outside the window, probably the garage. The thought of work being done on my bike wins out over the awkwardness I've been dreading of having to navigate through whatever awaits me in the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse at a little past 6:00 in the morning after a rager. I neatly fold Jax's tee and leave it on the end of the bed before lightly pushing the door open. Tip-toeing my way down the hall, I can already see some victims of last night's activities passed out in chairs, heads resting on the tables. Once I make it out to the open room I see a scene much like what expected: men and women in various stages of undress on couches, counters, the floor, the pool table, and the bar, some still in last night's drunken embraces. I hop the last of those on the floor and finally make it to the door I came in yesterday afternoon, pushing it open in relief.

It's already a gorgeous day outside, still chilly but clear. Most of the bikes from the afternoon remain in their parking spots alongside the fence along with an array of other cars here for last night, I assume. Rounding the wall to my left I see that I was correct in my suspicion of the garage being the source of noise. A few men move back and forth with my poor, banged-up bike sitting front and center. Shoving my hands into my front pockets to keep them warm and to somehow help quell the anxiety of walking up to these still-strangers, I move closer to see Opie and Prospect and another man I don't recognize. My heart sinks a little when it becomes clear that Jax isn't in the garage, which is ridiculous. I'm fighting the urge to roll my eyes at myself for my disappointment when I'm interrupted.

"Mornin,'" Opie's greeting shakes me from my thoughts and I close the last few feet between the garage to his friendly smile.

"Hey Tess." Prospect follows suit shooting me a quick grin, a rag tossed over his right shoulder.

"Morning guys," I return their greetings, then direct my attention to my bike, "…How's she looking?"

A serious look replaces Opie's smile and I know he's about to talk business.

"Nothin' too major, mostly cosmetic. We're gonna have to wait for some parts to come in. After that the work is just a few days."

I nod my head knowing that it doesn't take much to get pricey, even with insurance with a bike like mine that's a little older and has so much custom work. Now that I'm here in Charming it might be time to get to finding a job. Or at least some kind of gig.

"Any idea on a cost? Even a ballpark…I know it's early to tell." I press.

Opie and Prospect both turn their attention back to the bike in unison, avoiding eye contact.

"I don't know about that. You'll have to ask Jax." Opie offers awkwardly, hands back to working adeptly on what he had been when I first walked in.

"Oh yeah, sure. No worries" I'm not surprised Jax handles the financials of the business too, he definitely emits the I'm-in-charge vibe.

Feeling suddenly out of place I add, "Well, I'll let you two get back to it. Thank you so much for all of this, again. I really don't know what I'd do. And hey, just don't paint it pink."

They both look up and laugh, nodding and I turn on my heels having no idea where to go now. The idea of heading back inside especially with the possibility of people starting to wake up is definitely not happening. Then the cool air on my nose and cheeks awakens this morning's dreams of tea. I walk out toward the road and veer left. There must be a coffee shop or diner around here somewhere…

—

I've walked about two miles and am finally coming up on town center. Downtown Charming is the textbook definition of quaint, much like many of the small towns back east, lined with little shops and semi-busy sidewalks. I thought I'd only be walking a minute or two when I left but it's been a nice walk and honestly I'm interested to see more of the town. Even downtown, I'm still out of luck on the cafe so I head into a small general store when I see people coming out with coffee cups in their hands. I head over to the airpots filled with regular and decaf and internally rejoice at the sight of a nice selection of tea and a pot to dispense steaming hot water. After forking over a few ones to the elderly cashier, I push the door open to the outside world, bells clinging old school-style, strung up on the top of the door, announcing the arrival and departure of every customer.

Finally armed with earl grey I delay my walk back to the clubhouse, strolling by the windows of the shops. A small grocery store, bookstore (closed until 9:00), a florist…I'm about to push into the florist's door when I hear the sound of a bike and pause, curious to see if they'll be wearing a Sons cut. The thought then flashes into my head of the possibility at turning to see a Mayan patch…Before I can turn the bike's become loud enough for me to know it's pulling in to park. I turn slowly in time to see Jax killing the engine in the space directly behind me.

He takes off his helmet and I stand there noticing the physical effect this man has on me, the way my blood just whirred to my midsection in response to the smirk turning into a full-on smile on his face-like we've got some kind of inside joke or deep, hidden secret. And if he's feeling like this at the sight of me too, hell—maybe we do.

"Morning Jax…" I give in, taking a step closer.

"Mornin'" he continues to smile, but there's something beneath it and after a second of silence he gets to what he really wants to say, "Tess, how'd you get here?"

"I walked." I shrug. He continues to stare so I go on, not really understanding what he's looking for. "I couldn't sleep so once I heard noise in the garage I got up to check on my bike. And then I wanted some tea…You guys don't have many coffee shops in the area." I scramble awkwardly, searching for a clue of what a correct answer might be in his face, but to no avail, "…I just kind of ended up here." My words settle into him and his expression thaws momentarily.

He gets off his bike and walks toward me, brow furrowed.

"Tess…" He lightly touches my elbow and guides me to the side of the brick building. We both lean against it, facing each other. He starts again in a low, serious tone.

"Look. I know you don't know all of the details surrounding the club, but I'm guessing you can guess at some of it." He takes a small pause staring at the ground, "After yesterday…" I watch as he tries to decide how much he wants to tell and how he wants to say it, "You coulda gotten really hurt. Killed." his gaze now stays on me.

"I _didn_ _'_ _t._ _"_ I try to shake him out of whatever he's doing here, blaming himself, I guess-but he starts back up.

"It coulda been bad, Tess. It _was_ bad. It coulda been worse. Yesterday's on me. And while you're here I'd like to keep you protected. Getting you wrapped up in any of this is my bad.

I'm not sayin' you're in immediate danger because I don't know that and I _don_ _'_ _t_ want to scare you…But you walking off without any idea of where you're goin' or how to get there…" he pauses,

"Those guys probably don't dare to come into Charming. Probably. But they meant to hurt you and now they don't know what came of that. What could have happened yesterday is not going to happen today. I can't prevent it if I don't know where you are."

This is not at all what I was expecting him to say. Maybe the whole 'yesterday was my fault thing' but the needing protection part? Jax's words swim around my head and I feel hot and back up into the brick again to steady myself. I don't have any words formed to say yet.

Questions fire off in my head in a matter of seconds: _Am I in serious danger? Would I be better off not being with this club? Will it piss off whoever kicked out my bike_ _…_ _The Mayans? Especially if they find out I_ _'_ _m alive and well and bonus!_ _—_ _hanging with the enemy at their clubhouse. And will I be in danger for as long as I stay here? Shit, have I already ruined the sanctuary that Charlie and I have planned on this entire time before I even set foot into it?_

Jax, concerned about scaring me (but obviously aiming to scare me a little) waits expectantly, clearly trying to judge my expression. He must think that all I'm worried about is whether I'm in grave danger for the next few days while I wait on my bike to get out of here. But now is not the time to unload all of this onto him, to tell him that this is it, that Charming is my end destination and has been since I left Connecticut. That eventually, my sister will arrive and this is where we plan to restart our lives. I hope more than anything that all of that isn't ruined. I need to keep this place safe for her.

I work to formulate a response, putting my head back against the brick.

He's clearly concerned at my silence. Shaking my head, eyes still closed, I manage, "I'm sorry."

"Tess." he reaches out, fingertips brushing my arm, probably worried I'm going to pass out or something.

I open my eyes to find his. "I'm okay." I assure him, forcing a smile. "Just taking it in. It's been a crazy few…hours." _Months is what I really mean._

"I didn't mean to scare you." he sounds regretful.

"Jax, I'm fine, really. It's just a lot and it's not only what happened yesterday. Once I get back I won't go wandering off on foot alone from the clubhouse again. Good?"

He laughs, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

"You are _not_ walking back to the clubhouse."

I stare at him in confusion. What does he want me to do…call a cab?

Maybe call the shop and have Juice or someone pick me up in the van?

"My bike is right there." he motions his head over to it.

 _Oh no._

"You want me to get on the back of your bike?" the incredulousness in my tone mirrors his at my mentioning walking back.

I've never been on the back of someone else's bike. The concept is strange to me. Not that there's anything wrong with women who ride on the back of men's bikes, but I've got my own…I don't know how I feel about this.

"I don't know…" I cross my arms, staring at his bike, at a stalemate.

"Seriously?!" He's actually laughing, a look of disbelief all over his face that reads, _No girl has ever complained about this invitation._

 _Of course they haven_ _'_ _t_ , I think, but it feels good to deflate this glance of ego a little. I let him sweat it out a few moments longer and realize that without making a big to-do of this that I have no other options. It's only a few miles.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." I try to convey my reservations but he isn't reading any of it, already grabbing his helmet off the handlebars and handing it over to me.

He kicks up the kickstand and steps over, sitting and waiting for me while I stall, adjusting the strap of the helmet, then I can't put it off any longer. I swing my leg over, finding the pegs and settle in against him, sliding on my sunglasses. He turns his head to see me, a slight smirk playing at his lips.

"You okay?" he asks.

I nod my head and take that that as cue to wrap my arms around his waist. The buzzing electricity of our bodies touching is impossible to ignore. _Does he feel it too,_ I wonder as he starts up his bike. We sit unmoving. He's still facing straight ahead but then reaches his left hand back slightly, sliding his hand just above my knee and giving a quick double squeeze, then returning it to the handle bar like nothing and we roar out of the parking lot in the direction of the clubhouse. The action is so small, but it felt like reassurance and protection and…caring. The electricity and feeling in my stomach combine to a warm buzz that I revel in and my concern of awkwardness has long disappeared. We are already almost at the clubhouse, slowing down a bit, getting ready to take the turn in. I lean my head in closer to his right ear and speak so he can hear me above the engine.

"Hey, Jax," He turns his head slightly right to give on that he's listening.

"Just a little further?" I ask, unready to give this moment up to the rest of the day.

His face breaks into a smile, genuine and pure and it's the glimpse of him unbroken I craved.

"You got it." he answers not missing a beat and pulls back the throttle; Samcro's drive is already behind us as we hug a winding highway familiar and a road never traveled before.


	7. Take Me to Church

**At the risk of being mad cheesy, I** **'** **d like to start this chapter off with a thank you to you- my lovely, lovely readers for your support thus far. This is my first time writing on here and I am truly humbled and so, so grateful for each follow, favorite, and piece of feedback. It** **'** **s a HUGE deal to me. I absolutely love hearing from you guys! Every time I get notification about the story it makes my day** **—** **what a gift, right?! (I** **'** **m having a blast with this, by the way, so don** **'** **t expect it to end anytime soon.) I** **'** **m absolutely hooked.**

 **Thank you again & loads of love and light to each and every one of you.**

— **Kas**

 _Jax_

I pull open the doors to Church to see Chibs sitting alone at the table, both of us early. He's pouring over an old biker mag, drinkin' black coffee. I shut the doors behind me as he looks up with a wicked grin.

"Ahhh, Jackie-Boy. Good mornin' fer ya, eh?" He slaps me on the shoulder as I sit.

Tess and I drew quite a few stares from the guys pulling into the parking lot this morning from our ride, something that seemed to make her a little uncomfortable…which is surprising. She's gotta draw looks wherever she goes. Regardless, she's been in my room since we got back a few hours ago.

I give him a knowing smile and light up a cigarette, pulling the ash tray closer.

"Can't complain."

That's all I'm going to give him.

The others start filing in and taking their seats, Tig and Clay being last.

Once we've settled Clay starts in.  
"First order of business…"

"The Mayans." I interject.

"Mhm. Lines were crossed yesterday." Bobby agrees, leaning back and crossing his arms.

Juice is nodding in agreement, eyes on the table, mind on yesterday's crash. And Tess's injuries. "We need to make sure they aren't planning on crossing any other lines…" I continue, "Tryin' to bring this shit into Charming."

This gets grumbles of approval laced with anger.

We all know this war stays out of town territory. It's the first unspoken rule. Well, usually it doesn't have to be said. But this shit with the Mayans and Tess is making us say it, something that none of us like. _No blood gets spilled in Charming_. It's the classic don't-shit-where-you-eat boundary that's been with the club since it was founded. It's what's let SAMCRO's roots grow so deep into Charming soil. Outlaws or not, we keep our town sheltered from the lifestyle we take part in and the community knows they're safer with us here. Hell, most of the cops know it. Even Clay knows it.

Opie chimes in,"They know we were in Nevada for the patch over for the Tribe…think it could be that simple?"

"You piss in my territory, I piss in yours?" Clay clarifies.

Tig shakes his head, "Nah, it's more."

"Aye. Kickin' out a random bike jus' to get away? There's more to't than that, you can be sure." Chibs voices what we're all thinking.

It was a huge risk to kick out an innocent girls bike. Bringing a civilian into it signifies something bigger. Had Tess come to and refused to go with us and mentioned the Mayans to cops, they'd be waist deep in an investigation. They probably wouldn't get em on anything, but it'd be a hassle and it'd put 'em at risk of being discovered for bigger shit.

"There's a reason they wanted to get away bad enough to resort to what they did with Tess." I agree.

Bobby nods, "My guess is they had something on 'em that day they didn't want us to find out about…"

The room gets silent as his thought sinks in, each of us pondering what the Mayans could be in on, knowing Bobby has likely struck the truth of the matter.

"We reach out, put out ears for the any new dealings they got their hands in. Meanwhile we stay close to home, protect what's ours. _I don_ _'_ _t want this shit on my doorstep._ " Clay's words ring out, sent home by the crack of the gavel.

—

Everyone pushes out of their chairs, headed toward the bar and I see Cherry toss her phone in her bag, getting ready for the rush. Church dismissed.

I stay behind to talk to Clay, and he lights up a cigar as Prospect shuts the doors.

"Hows the girl?" he inquires, exhaling a series of tight puffs of smoke.

"She'll be alright." I answer, "Coulda been much worse."

He shoots me a knowing glance.

Clay and I aren't on the best terms, and we sure as hell have different ideas on what's best for the club, but we can usually tell where the others head is at.

He knows I want blood for what happened to Tess.

"Charming comes first." he says, getting right to it.

Little does he know I'm in agreement with the decision we made today. Tess is here now, so keeping her safe is in alignment with keeping Mayans out of Charming. I also know that the more dirt we get on the Mayans-and I think Bobby's right about it being something SAMCRO won't like- will get the fire lit under all of the club to come at them once we find it. I'm not about to object to that.

"I want to be the one who handles the guys from yesterday," I let on, "I know which ones they are."

Clay's eyes fills with understanding. He gets vengeance. Most of us do.  
He gives me a silent nod. _Done deal._

I nod and push out from the table, ready for a shot of jack myself. When my hands are on the door handles, Clay speaks again and though I don't turn around, I can practically feel his eyes burning holes into my cut.

"Keep your head clear. We can't have you getting cloudy with this shit goin' on so close to home."

I pause on turning the door handles, but continue to face the doors.  
"You don't gotta worry about my head." I answer, then push out to the bar with the rest of guys.

My eyes scan for Her in the crowd even though I know she's probably asleep in my room, tired from the ride and the medicine she took for her headache after it. I slide into a stool and grab the glass in front of me, the annoyance from Clay's bullshit concern about my head fading fast, mostly because it's already filled with thoughts of Tess.


	8. Dark Clouds

**Hi lovies. This update's been a bit of a long time coming. I was putting it off because I want to write more of Jax and Tess and their interactions involving the club, but I know we need some backstory on Tess and her sister Charlie. So, that's what you're getting tonight. I was pleasantly surprised at how enjoyable it was to write Tess talking to her mysterious big sister, and now we're working our way up to know what's gone on in the Tess's past. I hope you all like it!  
**

 **As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and thank you for the support!**

 **xx**

 _Tess_

I can hear the scuffle of people and chairs down the hall, voices and glasses chiming together and assume the club has adjourned from their business. _Lord knows what that must be_. I've been in Jax's room for hours. Things got a little weird after our ride. On the bike there was nothing else in the universe save the two of us, but driving into the parking lot to the watchful eyes of the club brought me back down to earth. Jax must be wondering why I was so quiet and eager to get back inside. It was my idea to even go on the ride, he just wanted to get me back to the club, but I guess the events of the past few days along with an audience to our intimate moment overwhelmed me. Now I feel like an idiot. It probably wasn't even a big deal to him, he must have women with him all the time. _But I know I what I felt._

He sweetly followed me in and stood in the doorway while I took my pills for my headache, begrudgingly. He smiled a smile that that made chest swirl and stop before shutting the door without saying a word, not even asking for an explanation of my silent walk inside. I just…I've got to be careful of what I'm doing here. If yesterday's events haven't already messed up Charming for Charlie and I, I need to make sure nothing else will.

My phone buzzes then and Charlie's face takes over the screen. I can't answer fast enough.

"Charl!"

"Oh my goodness, Tess! You're in Charming?! Holy shit!"

She got my messages.

"Yeah I'm here…I didn't really mean to be…but the stars must have had other plans. Practically knocked me on my ass, but yeah, I got here yesterday." _Did knock you on your ass,_ I think to myself, but hell if I'm telling my sister that now.

"But the house isn't even ready! Mrs. Anka still has tenants in it, where are you staying?!"

Mrs. Anka is an old family friend of our aunt. She's the one who has the house in Charming my sister and I are supposed to live in rent-free. Her family's had a house out here for a long time, but she'd always been on the east coast with her own family so it mostly just sat. She's loaded and adores us, and with the shit Charlie and I have been through, she offered the house out of the blue. At first we both said no…well, actually I said no and demanded Charlie take her up on it, then I wound up needing refuge too. Eventually, and at the insistence of Mrs. Anka, we both caved and said we'd move in. Since we agreed it's been all we've dreamed about. A fresh, tantalizing start in a mysterious place we've never been.

"No, no, I know. I haven't even seen the house yet" I begin to explain, "…I've met some people who I'm staying with for now. It's a long story." Unready to get into the subject of who I'm staying with or the crash yesterday, or Samcro at all, I try to change subjects. "Charming is adorable, very small, but nice so far, so anyway HOW is Zion?!"

Zion is my rescue dog. Well, half husky/half-wolf, his parents from a reserve further north. He's my best friend and was by my side 24/7 until shit went bad back home and I left for this trip. He adores Charlie and she had been wanting to steal him from me since he was a pup, and with the shit going on with her and her piece-of-trash husband, he was great protection for her while I got out here via bike. I can't wait to have him with me again.

"He's great. I think he can hear your voice, he's next to me now." I smile at that. "…Tess, we're in the apartment."

Her words hit me and mine come out like rapid fire.

"Wait, what? You're already in the apartment? That wasn't supposed to happen yet. Are you sure you're safe? Mitch doesn't know yet, right?" My heart is beating hard in my chest.

"No, no, no. Mitch has _no_ idea. He's been away for a week and will be gone for another two. I'm going to come out there soon after he gets back. It'll give me enough time to get things in order. He's been calling every day as usual and I'm acting as if everything's normal and I'm still at home. " She sounds so sure and steady, but I know the kind of danger she's putting herself in.

Charlie's husband, Mitch, is a detective with a ton of bigger ties and deeper problems. They seemed like the happiest couple when they met, and I figured at first that Charlie's emotional distance afterward was because she was starting a new chapter of her life, that it was all normal. But last year I found out it was because he was abusing her. At first it was all mental, breaking her down, isolating her, terrorizing and controlling her. Then he had started hitting her. None of the family knew this, including me. If I hadn't found the bruises myself on a surprise trip to visit her a year ago, I wouldn't even have believed someone had they told me. My sister Charlie is the strongest woman I know, and born from that strength was her deftness at hiding it. When I found out and got her to admit it, I couldn't believe Mitch had broken her down and manipulated her enough to get her to stay at all. I had tried to get her out of there then, but she refused, said she had to do it right. She was terrified. My brave, badass big sister being so scared shook me to my core. She said Mitch was dirty, had all kinds of connections and would never let her get away. He would tell her if she ever tried to leave he wouldn't hesitate to kill her and if she ran away he'd find her. She believed it. When she'd call me or I'd visit (frequently-which he hated) I'd try to get her to leave and finally, she started to really see the light.  
6 months ago was the final push, she found out she was pregnant. Before she even told me about it, she packed her bags and was trying to leave, but he came home in the middle of her trying to get out and lost it. He was so out of control she thought he would kill her and in a moment of terror she told him about the pregnancy. Since then he's mellowed out, not hitting her as much probably due to guilt of the possibility of hurting the baby, but the moment she was pregnant my talks with her changed even more. She was re-empowered and it gave her the strength to really leave. Her sense of urgency was clear. So we began planning down to the smallest detail, talking to Mrs. Anka more and more and readying her departure. It all really started to come together when one of the cops from Mitch's department approached Charlie, suspicious that Mitch was abusing her. He got in touch with protection programs and even offered her the apartment she's in now. He did it all without letting the department know, and agreed she may need to hold on for a few months. Charlie was ready but still scared. Once things happened with me and she knew I'd be coming with her, it helped. I worry about her every minute of the day. One of my biggest dreams of living in Charming is knowing she's safe again.

"So, you're positive Mitch has no idea you're not living in the house? What if a neighbor sees you moving stuff out or something and calls him?" My mind is racing as I try to cover the bases.

"I'm leaving almost everything. I just have some clothes and little things. Jon's the one who organized the trip. He made it mandatory for Mitch to go so I could get into the apartment."

Jon is Mitch's colleague who's been helping Charlie since she confirmed his concerns.

"He wants me to stay long enough to know Mitch isn't going to get off looking on the right track."

"Smart." I say, thankful she has someone who's so qualified to help. Though at the same time, it seems to support our worries that Mitch really is unstable enough to go after Charlie should she leave him…Jon must think so if he's going so far to keep her protected, offering her an apartment he would normally be renting out to help support his own family.

"Shit Charlie. I'm just glad you're out of there." I can practically see her smile, almost letting herself be relieved.

"I just can't wait until I can toss this fucking phone and he won't be able to call me. I could have a career in acting after this, Tess, I swear!" she laughs but the nightmare she's been living in makes my heart ache.

I shake my head solemnly, like she can see me, "It's survival. You're surviving. How are you feeling?"

She knows I'm talking about that sweet little baby she's now home too."Oh, I'm alright. I'm fat as shit though!"

I can't help but laugh at her vanity.

"I'm sure you're gorgeous and glowing."

"Tess…how are _you_?" her worried big-sister tone steals away the last of my smile and my mind works to dodge the bullet, coming up with half-assed responses like I'm so used to doing the past 5 months. I take a breath and put myself on autopilot. _I could be an actress too, big sister._

"I'm okay, Charl. It's been good for me out here…Don't worry about me. Keep your head clear to deal with everything else, and the baby. I've got it under control, I promse.

Listen, I gotta go. Take care of both of you…and Zion!"

"You know I will. Plus, Jon and his wife have been stopping in to check on me every day, usually twice." she assures me.

"Mhm. Text me tomorrow. Be safe. LOVE you. I can't wait until you're here."

"Love you." she answers, then hangs up.

I sit on the bed, head spinning with the craziness of all of it, of how a year ago I it was all normal…or well I thought it was all normal. But then shake it off, hopeful that my sister, at least, seems to finally be moving out from under the dark cloud she's been forced to live under.

 _Hopefully she won_ _'_ _t be moving beneath another one, m_ y mind taunts me. I clear the thought almost as quickly as it comes. I refuse to worry about the possible danger here right now. For all I know it's nothing. If I know one thing it's that nothing is sure. And besides that right now, this chance is all we've got.

I toss my phone into my bag and walk into the bathroom to check the mirror. I grab the sink, knowing I have to emerge from this room—Jax's room—sometime. I give my hair a quick tousle, letting the waves do their thing, the braid unwinding and falling down my back. I reapply mascara and change my shirt. Then I can't put it off any longer, so I open the door and start down the hall, eyes scanning a crowded room in search of _him_.


	9. Coast

I see him before he sees me, sitting at a table to the back right of the room, Opie on his left, Prospect on his right, Juice's back facing me waving his hands animatedly as Opie and Prospect laugh. Jax's eyes are on Juice as well, but they've got the shallow look of someone whose mind isn't in the room. It's even more crowded out here than I expected it to be, and I shuffle through the barely dressed women and mostly-unfamiliar faces. I'm well aware of the stares I'm getting and can confirm that I'm likely a hot topic around here. I'm glad I'm wearing my favorite pair of jeans if I'm going to be getting the attention, well worn and low hung on my hips. Though most are looks of interest, I take in a few dirty glances from some of the women, mostly the younger ones with their skirts covering…well, nothing much. Red waves at me from a couch in the back and I give a her a wave back and a big smile. Opie looks up and sees me then, and I watch him slightly elbow Jax, nodding in my direction. As Jax looks up to see what Opie's motioning toward, I step to the side of a group of men and lose sight of them. I keep my head down and walk the rest of the room to their table.  
"Mind if I join you guys?" I try not to sound as out of place as I feel, especially with the added awkwardness of being seen on Jax's bike today. Listening to the words come out of my mouth, I can't tell if it worked.  
The look on Jax's face though, is enough to make me feel more comfortable.

"Darlin you're more than welcome. Take a seat." he reaches out and pulls an empty chair in beside him.

Cherry is at the table before I'm fully seated, holding a tray with 4 whiskeys on it and a pitcher of beer. She clears the empties and replaces them with the ones on the tray then starts refilling the beer glasses.

"Glad to see you're feelin' a little better, girl. You want a drink?" she asks me sweetly.

"Actually, a whiskey sounds great. I'll have what they're having. Thanks, Cherry."

Jax nods and lights up a cigarette, then turns his attention to Opie,

"So, how's her bike?" he asks, exhaling.

"Mostly cosmetic, but…you know, lotta custom shit's gotta be ordered. That's what might take time." Opie repeats what he told me this morning.

Cherry slides my whiskey and a beer in front of me, lays a quick kiss on Prospect's cheek and is gone before I can even tell her thanks. She's got a full house and…it looks like not much help behind the bar. Though everyone in a cut, I notice, has a full drink.

The guys start talking about some other project they're working on in the garage and I take a grateful sip of my whiskey as my eyes scan the room to take in my surroundings. I like to have my bearings, especially in a setting like this that's so unfamiliar to me. The warmth of the sip works its way down my chest. I haven't drank much since I've been out on my own, not that I ever really did. But the feel of the whiskey is welcome and I swirl the glass in my hand. Oblivious to the four voices around me, I drink down the rest, placing it quietly on the table and looking up to see Jax watching me out of the corner of his eye while they carry on, wearing a slight but unmistakeable look of deviance.

Trying to avoid the butterflies that full eye contact with this man seems to give me, I grab my beer and take a gulp, letting it chase the fiery spirit to my belly. I smile, a little embarrassed at how good the beer tastes and knowing Jax is still watching me and, I suspect, only pretending to listen to his friends. He then reaches down andm in a repeat of this morning, squeezes my knee twice—too quick for anyone else to notice— reaching up and grabbing his drink in one smooth movement. I bite my lip and take another long sip.

"You must be Tess," a slightly gravely voice comes from my right as I feel a hand come to rest lightly on my shoulder.

I look up to see an older man with gray hair smiling down, his 'President' patch practically staring me in the face with another reading, 'First 9' directly below it.

"Yes, I am." I smile back, offering my hand, which he takes. I find myself thankful bikers don't seem to be the kind of men who squeeze the hell out of girl's hands when they shake it. _Probably comfortable enough with their masculinity._

"Glad you're alright, kid." he pats my back in a gesture reminiscent of a parent, and pulls over a stool, sliding in on the other side of Jax.

"Oh, I'm fine," I assure him, "A few scratches. Nothing that time won't heal."

"Ah, time heals all wounds…" he puffs on his cigar in a way that strikes me as menacing, letting the words settle into the air and smoke in a strange pause, "…isn't that what they say?" the second half of his thought snapping through the air in contrast.

"They do say that, don't they?" I quip, not missing a beat, "I guess I have to agree. Well, in regards to the physical wounds, at least."

I notice the President looks a little off-put at my musing and that Jax is biting to hide a smirk.

Cursing the whiskey for making me so chatty with the club president whom I know nothing about, I attempt to recover, "Thank you, by the way, for letting me stay here, and for everything else. I don't know what I would have done your hospitality, truly."

His expression melts to one of a man whose been flattered. _Putty in my hands. Give their ego one stroke, I swear_ _…_

"Girl who rides a bike like that, please…Mi casa es su casa," he gestures around the room and laughs lightly, pushing back to stand. "Make yourself at home, kid."

I'm thankful to see that he seems genuine. _No harm, no foul_. After he pats me on the shoulder once more, the president moves in to sit next to a big man at the bar wearing the only denim cut in the room.

I let out a breath and take another gulp of my beer despite that it helped to betray me. Guess I _really_ can't handle my own anymore.

"It's alright darlin', Clay's just a little tense. You're all good." Jax assures me quietly while the other three resume their conversation.

A very tipsy brunette who must barely be drinking age saunters over to the table then, trying her

best to whisper into Juices ear. It comes out just a slurred, raspy version of talking.

"Juiiiiice, you haven't even said _hi_ to me tonight…" she hiccups, looking up at him sadly.

Juice looks to Jax and Opie like their big brothers, clearly embarrassed as they shake their heads at him, grinning like old boys.

Juice answers her like an embarrassed kid scolding his mom," _Dee, you know you can_ _'_ _t interrupt when I_ _'_ _m with the club_."

Jax interrupts, "Oh nah man, it's all good. Club business is over. Go ahead, you haven't even gotten to say _hi_ to…" he pauses expectantly, waiting for the girl to retell her name.

" _Dee?_ _"_ she finally picks up the bait and answers with attitude.

"Dee." Jax finishes, both him and Opie grinning ear to ear.

Juice shakes his head and puts his arm around the girl, probably to ensure she won't fall. He looks behind her shoulder and shoots Jax a glare, giving them the finger behind her back before the two disappear into the crowd.

Jax and Opie let their laughter loose.

Opie shakes his head, "Fuckin' evil, man. That chick is beyond crazy."

"Ah, it's good for him." Jax muses cooly, stubbing out his cigarette.

Thjs little glimpse at these guy's daily lives is pretty much what I would have expected. Drunk girls hanging around hoping to get a chance to hang one of these cuts up in their bedroom for a night. _What I expected, but still enough to make me finish off another beer in a few pulls._

Cherry is back at the table when I put it down.

"You wannanother round, love?" she asks, dropping the guy's fresh drinks on the table, already knowing their answers.

"Oh no, I couldn't." I shake my head, "I'm a bit of a lightweight…and," I furrow my brow, trying to recall my last meal, "huh," I say giving up, "empty stomach too…I think…" I ponder, trying to pin down the exact events of my time here. _Goddamn pain meds are making me cloudy._

" _Holy shit._ _"_ I look to see Jax's face dawning recognition, turning to one of slight alarm.

"Tess, you haven't eaten since you've been here." pushing back his chair a little, hand touching my arm, his concern catching me a little off-guard.

In reality I'm not shocked with how much of a blur it's been the slighty-more-than-24 hours since the crash. That paired with the fact that I never take pills and have been sleeping quite a bit because of it, it's not so surprising that I've had no appetite.

"C'mon" he nudges me with his elbow and stands, a tender look of resolve that somehow already feels familiar to me crossing his face.

I'm still sitting trying to follow his train of thought while he gives Prospect dabs and drains his own whiskey.

"Op, I'll catch up with you in the mornin." he's all business, turning his attention back to me with a look that conveys his obvious thought which is clearly, ' _Why are you still sitting down?_ _'_

"Sure thing, man. I gotta get back to Donna and the kids anyway. Promised I'd tuck 'em in tonight."

Jax nods and they pull in to a quick hug, the leather of their cuts amplifying the slaps on their backs as they pull away. 

I'm standing now, trying to get across my utter confusion as well as he did his sudden need to leave but he doesn't even look at my face, instead just grabbing my hand and leading me across the room trailing Opie toward the door with me in tow as you might have a small child.

I look back to see Cherry catching on while she wipes down the table and sees Prospects confusion at being abandoned so suddenly. She shoots me a ' _What_ _'_ _s going on?_ _'_ look and I give her a clueless shrug, trying not to trip over anyones feet as I'm pulled through the crowd. She laughs and I see her shaking her head as I'm ushered out the door.

"Apologies, but I think I may have missed something?" I cast out into the night, trying to catch some type of hint.

Opie's hopping onto his bike and Jax is clearly leading me toward his own. _Is this really happening again?_

A hush in the crowd of smokers hanging on the picnic tables as we pass makes me want to turn to try to discern what they're thinking and will be saying, but I ignore the urge.

We stop at his bike and he hands me his helmet.

"We gotta get you something to eat. I'm a _shit_ host" he finally explains, deadpan.

" _Ohhhh_.

I don't know, Jax. It can wait until the morning can't it? I'm really not hungry with these meds and I can just walk to the…" Oops _._ His look stops me in my tracks.

"Or, well get a ride, ya know? Is what I meant." he's making me stammer like an idiot and the alcohol which I can practically picture swirling with my medicine in my otherwise-empty stomach is likely not helping.

He reaches out and touches my face, stepping closer like I'm some kind of bird he can coax into not flying away. _Can he?_

"Tess, darlin." He reaches up and lightly touches the scrapes on my hairline and forehead then brings his thumb below my chin to tilt it up, making sure my eyes are on his,"…because of me." he says, pausing so I understand.

In all honestly, the dried blood on my face is currently of much less concern compared to the rest body holds, which feels like it's sitting low in my stomach with him this close to me and I wonder if he can see each time my heart beats in my throat.

His eyes lose their seriousness after a moment and he takes back his hands.

"The last thing you ate was pavement. Let me buy you some dinner." he jokes, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

I take a breath to steady myself and think it over.  
"I don't know Jax, I'm not sure I want to be in a restaurant right now, I'm…"

"If you're worried about the scrapes, you look badass.".

I laugh, not even thinking about the patch of road rash.

"No, I'm just…a little drunk,is all." I pause for a moment, embarrassed. "…And I haven't been in a while and so being in public just seems like…a lot?" I admit, looking down at my boots as I say it, then back up to see his surprise.

"Oh, shit. Really?" he ponders it for a moment then, "Your medicine, no wonder."

I nod.

He leans on his bike, lights a cigarette and takes a long, thoughtful drag. He exhales and pushes off the bike with a renewed, excited energy, then gets on and looks at me expectantly.  
" _No restaurant_." he promises, holding his hands up in an act of surrender.

I sigh knowing it's no use and fix the buckle of the helmet, then settle behind him for the second time today. The warmth of my buzz mixes with the buzz of our electricity and the why and where fade into the blackness of thick night. I close my eyes to avoid the watchful stares of the people left in parking lot but by the time we're moving out the front gate it doesn't matter. I've forgotten everyone but him, and I don't know it then, but for the first time since my world closed in, I've forgotten the why of why I'm riding away. _Which I don_ _'_ _t know is fitting because I_ _'_ _m here._


	10. Then and Now

The cool breeze is welcome on my cheeks, in stark contrast to the warmth pulsing down to my bones, a tincture of chemicals synthetic and organic, tangible and unknown. I close my eyes, my jaw resting on Jax's shoulder and stay like that for some time, the pale pink glow of headlights through my eyelids becoming less frequent as we slow and wind down a side road. I open them as we turn into a hilly driveway and he cuts the engine.  
"Home?" I inquire, stepping lightly off his bike.  
"Nah. Not really." he smirks curiously, giving my jacket a quick tug and heading up the cement steps.  
I follow, fumbling with the helmet, finally getting it off and shaking my hair out as he grabs a key from above the door frame and lets us in.  
The house is clearly expensively decorated in deep reds and dark wood, accents of gold throughout. It's a bit gaudy for me, but certainly not tasteless. I follow Jax past a huge oak table atop an impressive oriental rug of more red and gold, past a bird cage I briefly pause at, and into a nice kitchen with wooden cabinets and granite counter tops. Though it may not be my choice of decor, I must admit it feels cozy. Lived in. I decide I like it here.  
Jax opens up the fridge and pulls out a beer, waving it at me like a question.  
"No way." I shake my head.  
He shrugs and opens it for himself, taking a heady drink as he inspects the fridge.  
I hop up on the countertop and take in my surroundings, tracing my fingers over a decorative nightlight plugged in next to me. It's yellow glass with grapes on it, casting a pool of light on the granite beneath it that I let fall onto my hand and glimmer across my silver rings.  
Jax lets out a sigh,  
"How do you feel about breakfast?" he peers up from the fridge, looking a little desperate.  
"I feel good breakfast." I nod, and he begins taking out veggies, eggs, and chives and placing them onto the counter beside the fridge.  
He sets me up with a cutting board and I start at slicing cherry tomatoes and onions. We work quietly for some time. The familiarity of working in the kitchen makes the warmth I'm already feeling expand. I haven't had access to a real kitchen in months and I've always loved to cook. I'm pulling a bread knife through a loaf of sourdough when my curiosity finally gets the better of me.  
"So, where are we?" I glance over but his back is to me at the stove. He laughs.  
"Oh yeah. We're at my mom and Clay's place."  
The name rings a bell and he looks back to find me trying to work out which one Clay was.  
"Club president. You met him tonight."  
"Ahhh," I nod, hoping he'll go on. When he doesn't, I add, "He's your father?"  
"Nah. My mom and Clay got together when my dad died. Dad was Samcro too." he seems to pause, but the silence goes on and I realize he's not going to explain any further.  
"Where are they tonight?" I change the subject, wanting to keep the conversation going, though I must admit even silence feels easy with him.  
"Mom's visiting her pops until the weekend. Clay never stays in the house when she's not here," he laughs, "he's been bunking in the clubhouse since she left."

I finish washing the cutting board and various utensils before he's done cooking and the smell of hot butter in the pan finally prompts a growl from my stomach.  
He laughs. "Sorry I'm slow…don't cook much now." he shakes his head and I can't help but wonder what he's thinking. "You can hang on the couch if you're tired."  
He must be able to see the tempted look on my face because he motions with the spatula, "right in there darlin'."

In the living room, I sink into the couch and close my eyes, focusing on the sound of him cooking. I've always loved listening to people in the kitchen, it sounds so lovely and safe. How could anything ever have been wrong, or be wrong, ever again? Like every bad thing must have been only in a dream...

A hand gently moves against my leg and I stir to the sound of my name. I bring my head off the armrest. I hope it's dark enough in here to cover the flush in my cheeks, and the lines the couch has probably left on the side of my face.

"Time to eat." he nods at the steaming plate on the wooden coffee table in front of me.  
I take no time pushing out my knees and pulling myself onto the floor, grabbing my utensils and almost starting before realizing there's only one plate.  
I pause, my knife and fork in midair, "You're eating, aren't you?"  
"My plate's in the kitchen." he assures me, disappearing.  
In a moment he emerges and settles onto the carpet across from me, our food on the wooden coffee table. A bohemian midnight breakfast.  
I can't wait any longer and dig in.  
For some time we eat in silence, every so often catching each other looking, then holding each others gaze for what _should_ feel, to almost strangers, like a too-long moment. But it's never awkwardness or shame that forces me to break his gaze. It's just…the intensity. It wells up like an elephant in the room, flowers in my stomach, and gets to be too much to ignore when it's never even been spoken. And, though I think he must be feeling the same I have no real way of knowing.  
My food is nearly gone and I'm reveling in the warm, floating feeling that I can only assume is an effect of the alcohol mixed with the delightful satisfaction of a belly full of a warm meal when he speaks again.  
"So, a solo ride cross country?" I look up to a wicked glint in his eyes.  
It's a question I'm sure he's been sitting on since he's met me. Across my trip, anyone I've run into who asks me what I'm doing and where I'm going quickly morphs their series of questions into one: ' _Why_?'

I know that Jax would understand more than most. The appeal of the road—and of solitude—but I'm sure he also knows that there must be some type of catalyst that pushes you off. In truth, I've been waiting for the question. Being offered help like this, I knew I would have to spill my guts about why I was here and why I left and about all of the heavy luggage I've been carrying in my heart for thousands of miles.  
But I'm not ready for it to be tonight.  
I'll give in, but just a bit.  
"I lost someone." I finally say, unsure of what else I'll even hear myself admit before taking a deep breath and continuing, "After, I stayed in my hometown for awhile but I finally needed to just…go." I all but flinch before stealing my eyes down to the coffee table, unable to meet his.  
Even to me my words sound a bit like a betrayal, just skimming the surface of the truth.  
When I look up I am surprised to find a look of calm and curious understanding. He nods, his seriousness reflecting mine and not a hint of frustration or disappointment in my flimsy answer.

"Here, I'll get the dishes." I offer, needing a moment. I stand slowly and embarrassingly have to steady myself before I collect the plates. He reaches out looking concerned but I'm already headed to the kitchen.  
All the pans are already clean but I busy myself there for a few minutes with the plates and utensils. I wash, then dry them, randomly opening cabinets and drawers to find their proper places. While I store the dishes I also stow away thoughts of before I left, unleashed by Jax and his simple, innocent question. Compartmentalizing then and now. Who I am and who I was.  
When I dry my hands and turn, he's leaning against the doorway, watching me in silence. I give him a shrug and an exasperated smile that almost shakes my composure, the way a smile sometimes can.  
"C'mon darlin'." is all he says, and wordlessly we lock up and make our way out to the drive, where I settle in behind him as we move back into blackness that, somehow, feels light.


	11. Insurance

I awaken to see the alarm clock reading a ridiculous 6:00 am.  
The rest of last night comes back in flashes.  
When we returned to the clubhouse all was pretty quiet. It was easy for us to sneak in, most people gone and a few passed out. Jax walked me back to his room but paused at the door saying he had some things he needed to take care of and promised that he'd see me in the morning.  
I can't help but wonder where he went or what kind of errands he might have been running that late at night. And whether he had been alone.  
I throw the comforter off and start the shower.

Slipping my boots on, I know I need some coffee. I close the room door behind me and begin my hunt. Knowing that a cafe is out of the question after my last quest for tea ended in me being brought back here by bike, I resign myself to this morning's search taking place within the clubhouse. If I turn up nothing in here it looks like there's a small office attached to the garage that could have something.  
Tip-toeing almost all the way down the wooden-paneled hallway I can tell all is still quiet in the main room, which means one of two things: the straggler's from last night have already gone home or they're still passed out somewhere out there. I make a left into the last doorway before the hall opens up to the bar and main room.  
"Jackpot." I whisper to myself at the sight of the coffeemaker on the counter in the small kitchenette.  
I rummage through the cupboards and find a bag of coffee beans almost immediately.  
 _Too easy._  
After washing out the pot and grinding the beans I set them to brew and move to take a peek out the window to see what's going on outside.  
The garage doors are up and lights are on, but I can't see anyone moving around inside it. There are only a few bikes in the parking lot...Jax's not being one of them. Thoughts of late-night errands and Mayan cuts flash threateningly through my mind's eye.  
I shake my head.  
 _Who am I to worry for a man I barely know? How dare I, of all people, feel so much concern for the safety of this man? How dare I feel this much of anything?_  
Quickly, I pull my fingers out from between the thin metal blinds and distract myself, snagging a mug from the dish rack. I pull the pot from the heating plate and place the mug directly beneath the dripping coffee. _So much for patience being a virtue._  
The sound of bikes pulling into the lot abruptly fills up the room. I abandon my post of watching the mug slowly fill and move back to the window.

Jax, Opie, and Juice are pulling in in quick succession. I watch to see they're hopping off their bikes and heading inside. I wonder if they really have been up to something early this morning or maybe they just happened to all show up at the same time.  
The sound of more bikes' arrival continue as I move over to pull my now full mug from the machine and replace the pot. I hear the door in the main room open and voices calling out, "Church," "Church!"

Looking up at the clock to see it's minutes before 7:00am, I assume they've got a meeting planned and are doing their best to wake any club members who might be still asleep in their 'dorms'.  
Moments later, a half asleep Clay proves this theory correct as he moves past the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily. I go happily unnoticed.

I decide to stay in here until they're all inside the chapel, liking the feeling of invisibility this morning. Mug in hand, I gingerly take a seat at the hightop table in the corner, wincing at the sharp pain in my ribs and take a sip of black coffee. I can hear the club members in the other room laughing and joking, clearly wide awake and boisterous today.  
A few minutes later Juice's familiar voice echoes through the air from the chapel,  
"It smells fuckin' amazing in here, is Gemma back or something?"

I glare at the coffee maker that is ruining my cover.  
Within moments Jax appears in the doorway, crossing his arms.  
"Ahhh, it's how I thought. Mornin' sweetheart." he smiles, grabbing himself a mug from the shelf above the sink, "None of the guys ever make coffee."  
"Early riser." I smile and shrug.  
A messy haired, wild-eyed Tig appears in the doorway then.  
"Holy baby Jesus it's like Christmas—Jax you takin over for Gem?" he asks, coffee pot in hand, wafting the fumes from the pot to his nose.  
"Was'n me, man…" Jax laughs slapping him on the leather and jerking his head in my direction. He gives me a wink and is out the door.  
"I knew you were an angel, I fucking KNEW it!" Tig laughs manically, grabbing the top of my head and giving it a hard peck with an overly dramatic"Muah!"  
I can't help but let out a laugh, which hurts.  
"You really are a freak, Tig." Juice appears, shaking his head as he pushes past Tig toward the coffee. He flashes a genuine smile, holding up his cup, "Lifesaver."  
I just smile, thinking so much for my incognito morning.  
Next Prospect comes in with Bobby, giving their thanks and then hurrying out at Clay's clearly no-bullshit call of "C'mon boys, _Church!_ "  
I pour the last of the coffee into my own mug, put on another pot and enjoy the sudden silence.  
Now that it seems I've got the garage to myself for a bit, I'd like to visit my bike. I move past the double wooden doors, closed now that Church is in session, and push out the door into the day. Shivering in the cool morning air, I grasp my mug tighter and make my way out to the garage.

Staring at my bike, I recognize how it feels somehow foreign to be without this machine so suddenly. It has taken me thousands of miles, and more importantly helped me to escape a reality I could no longer endure. It's looking a lot better, but knowing I can't get on it depresses me. The smashed up mirrors are still on, the guys likely working on the major stuff, leaving them until the end. This is a small task I can easily handle, even in my battered, sentimental state.  
My aching body is moving slowly and it takes me a while to find the simple tools I need. I'm certainly no mechanic, but I've learned a few small things along the way. Finally I lay the tools out and busy myself taking the turn signals off so I can get to the mirrors. I take my time, my hands enjoying the task and being grateful for the feel of the air again after the amount of sleep I've had lately. I've got everything back in its rightful place and I'm tossing the worthless mirrors when I see the guys filing out into the parking lot, some to their bikes, some heading my way. Clay passes by me and raises his coffee. I return his smile as he heads into the office attached to the garage.  
Men are so easy to please.

"Look at you!" Opie laughs, stepping into the garage and giving his nod of approval.  
"I hope you don't mind...," I offer, a little sheepish, "I think I've got everything back where it was."  
"Help yourself. Next time feel free to leave shit out, that's what this punk is here for." he smiles, motioning over at Prospect who's now got his head under a hood but is managing to give Opie the finger.

"Bike's lookin' better, huh?" Opie continues.  
"She does, thank you." I nod, meaning it. Then add, "I miss her," laughing.  
He smiles knowingly.

Past him, I see Jax, Bobby, and Juice finally emerge from the clubhouse. They stand right by the door, smoking and talking. Opie pulls the stool over to more closely inspect my bike and I catch Jax looking at me across the parking lot. He holds my gaze for a moment before I look away.

"How're you feeling?" Opie asks, staring up from my bike to the road-burn on my face.  
"I'm sore." I admit, "My ribs are definitely the worse part."  
"Mhm, broke my ribs when I was logging two winter's ago. Shit hurts."

A black Cutlass pulls into the lot then, but only as far as where Jax still stands talking. A woman with dark hair and sunglasses steps out and Juice and Bobby almost immediately start toward us, leaving Jax to talk to her, whoever she is. _Interesting_.

"Well," Opie starts, bringing my mind back inside the garage, "A few more of your parts came in this morning…You said you miss her, you want to put in some quality time?" he asks, holding up a small box.  
"Are you kidding?! I'd love that!" I enthuse.  
Opie gets up and offers me his stool, moving throughout the garage what we'll need while I try to keep my eyes off Jax and the mystery brunette.

"What's that shit about?" I hear Prospect almost-whisper once Juice and Bobby get into the garage.  
"Eh, says the Cutlass needs work." Bobby answers, then adds, "But...she's just trying to get her foot in the door if you ask me."  
I look carefully at the tools in front of me, feigning indifference.

The guys look alive then as a big black SUV suddenly pulls in, right in front of the office. Opie returns to my side and begins coaching me through what to do. I listen to his words intently and follow his instructions as he hands me tools, thankful for the distraction.  
When Opie hears the SUV door shut though, he looks up and I follow his lead, curious to see who it might be.  
An older woman, beautiful with high cheek bones, streaked hair, and heavy eye makeup steps out. Dressed in heeled boots, jeans, and a designer ripped black shirt she quickly moves straight up the wooden stairs to the office. She doesn't even glance into the garage (which I'm a bit thankful for) and is already out of sight when she yells, "Morning boys."  
They reply almost in unison, "Mornin' Gem."  
 _Jax's mom._

"…Well… _that_ means no more fuckin' around, I'm out!" laughs Juice, heading toward his bike.  
With one last glance toward Jax, who's leaning with one arm on the black car and from what I can tell looking a bit exasperated in his conversation, I refocus on my lesson with Opie, but not before I see the woman's glare, and it's undoubtedly on me.

***

 _ **Gemma**_

"Hi sweetheart," Gemma leans in, kissing Clay who's sitting at the desk.  
"You're back early," Clay smiles standing up to embrace his wife.  
"Mhmm," Gemma answers, moving to the window that looks out to the parking lot and clubhouse. "They've got some nursing home week shit goin' on…buncha activities for them. Singers and shit. He seems to be enjoying it, so I figured I wouldn't be missed. Got back real early. Already visited Abel at the hospital." she answers, a little distant, intent instead on what's going on outside.  
Clay moves over to see what she's got her eye on. _Of course._ _Tara_.  
He moves back to the desk. He knew it'd only be a matter of time until she showed up and he hadn't been looking forward to it, knowing the effect it'd have on Gem.  
"Jesus Christ. What the hell is she _doing_ here?" she seethes  
 _This effect,_ he thinks but he only says, "Musta just gotten here. Wasn't in here when I came out and I haven't been in here long."  
"Hasn't that bitch done enough?! Should be at the hospital where she actually seems to do some good." Gemma huffs.  
Clay nods, bracing for Gemma as she continues on.  
"And what in the hell does Jax keep looking at in the garage?" she wonders aloud, unable to see inside of it from this angle and wishing she had paid more attention on her way in.  
Clay gets up and takes his wife firmly by the shoulders, kissing her lovingly, and gives her a smile.  
"What he's lookin' at is probably your brand new insurance that Tara won't be _able_ to do any more damage to Jax," he smiles "I'll see you later sweetheart. Club business."  
He pauses at the door, looking back at his wife, who is clearly intrigued. It's rare he knows anything she doesn't know. "I'm glad you're home Gem, I've missed ya." he adds, then heads out the door.  
Gemma hums a low, "Mhmmm," still peering out the window, craning her neck to see what the hell her 'insurance' might be.


	12. Appetite

Jax

Tara's onto talking about the car again after asking about how Abel was when I went to see him this morning. I can hardly focus with all the eyes on us in the garage…not that Tara seems to be takin' any notice. Since my mom pulled in I can practically feel her peering out the office window shootin' daggers. Tess seems absorbed in her bike but if she gives a shit at all she'll be wondering what this is about.

Tara pauses briefly making me tune back into the conversation, hoping I didn't miss a question. Luckily she's not looking at me. I follow her glare right to Tess.  
"What, you're hiring female mechanics now?" she scoffs.  
I don't bite, just shake my head and smile.  
I tell her to pull her car up to the garage by way of an answer, giving the roof of the Cutlass a tap where I've been leaning and I head toward Op. He abandons Tess when he sees me nod for his attention. I need Tara out of here before she or Gemma have any real drama.  
"What's up, man?" Opie asks in a lowered voice.  
"Tara says she needs some work done on the Cutlass…can you fit her in?"  
He squints at the two cars that are up on lifts, "Yeah, we'll make it work."  
"I want to get her out of here quick, end of day or tomorrow. Got enough ex bullshit going on." I explain and he nods his understanding.  
Looking over to see Tara unloading stuff from her car, I see my mom has come out of the office and is now in the corner of the garage taking to Tig.  
"Jesus Christ…" I whisper, Opie turning to see.  
Probably gettin Tig to fill her in on everything that's happened while she was gone that Clay didn't bother to tell her. I swear sometimes you'd think she was club Pres.  
Opie slaps my cut then and turns away, swinging the rag he's holding up onto his shoulder and shouting for Prospect to pull the Cutlass in.  
I head over to my mom and prepare to do damage control.

* * *  
Gemma

"Uh huh." Gemma shakes her head as Tig explains that Tara's here feigning car problems.  
Typical.  
"And who's the blonde head belong to?" she nods over to the only part of the kneeling girl she can see, the bike blocking the rest of her from view.  
"Tess," Tig grins devilishly, then gets serious, "Mayan's kicked out her bike on 88 when Jax and some of the guys were chasing them."  
"Shit." Gemma's furrows her brow. The heat between the Mayans must be getting serious.  
"Jax hit it yet?" she inquires quickly, seeing him head this way.  
"Nah Gem, I don't think so. They've been spending time though…" Tig finishes just before Jax walks up.

"Welcome home, mom." Jax flashes a smile you'd swear was innocent.  
"Hi sweetheart." Gemma brings him into a hug and grabs his face to kiss his cheek. Still cradling his jaw, she pulls back and stares into her son's eyes.  
"What the fuck is she doing here?"  
Jax pulls away and snorts.  
"Mom, it's nothing. I had no clue she was even coming. Says she needs her car fixed. I'm just trying to find her a ride home." he looks at Gemma the way you might a viper you were trying to persuade you were not a threat.  
"Mhmmm…" Arms crossed, she stares behind him to Tara, who's now standing in the parking lot watching them and looking otherwise lost. Then Gemma gets a sudden burst of energy. "Well, I can take her home."  
"What? Mom, no…" But Gemma is already headed toward Tara, plastering on a fake smile. "Heard you needed a ride?" she aims her words in Tara's general direction, pushes her sunglasses down from her head and moves toward her SUV.  
A moment of awkward silence ensues. Gemma is standing with her foot on the door, staring up over the roof practically daring Tara to say no. Tara looks from Gemma to Jax, her expression a mix of helplessness and annoyance.  
"Jax?!" Tara finally musters, ignoring Gemma and looking at him demandingly.  
"Wrong move, bitch," Gemma thinks.  
He shakes his head, resigning himself to this solution which seems at least a little better than putting Tara on the back of his bike in front of Tess.  
Taking her to the side, he tries his best to look apologetic.  
"Listen, I'm sorry. I've got a ton on my plate and didn't know you were coming. It's just a short ride. She won't bite, I promise." he all but whispers.  
"Easy for you to say." Tara snips, hiking her bag over her shoulder.  
Sliding into the passenger seat she slams the car door and stares straight ahead.  
Gemma remains half out of the car, a look of smug delight just discernible under her oversized sunglasses. "And guys!" Gemma commands the garage's presence, "Family dinner. 7:00 at our house."  
She hops into the SUV and sets her purse in the back. Looking up, she sees that Jax has made his way over to Tess. A mischievous grin breaks onto Gemma's face. She puts the car in reverse, holding her finger down on the automatic window button until the passenger side's is fully down. She stops directly in front of Jax and Tess, finally getting a bit of look at the girl.  
"Tess?" Gemma leans over Tara to talk out the window and the girl looks up.  
Jesus Christ. Insurance is goddamn right.  
Gemma had taken a risk pulling up to Jax and Tess and had been rewarded. She was hoping to get under Tara's skin but now knew she probably did more than that. Tess was more competition than Charming could ever normally offer and more than Gemma expected, even with Tig's assurance. Tig standards are usually questionable, but this girl was a knockout.  
"Welcome to Charming…I'll pick you and Cherry up in a few hours. You girls can help me cook."  
Tess barely manages to stand and give an overwhelmed nod of approval while Jax leans behind her looking mildly stressed. Gemma rolls the window up and puts it into drive. Turning out of the parking lot, she finally steals a look at Tara, who is once again staring straight ahead, but is barely masking her concern.  
"I'da invited you too sweetheart," Gemma's singsongy tone mocks innocence, "but it looks like you just lost your appetite."


	13. To the Ends of the Earth

**For those asking what Tess looks like, I picture something like a golden-haired Rocky Barnes.**

 **I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

 **xx**

About an hour in, I, well, mostly Opie, had installed everything we could on my bike. I thanked him and ducked inside to get washed up and, hopefully, figure out what this dinner was about. I changed into clean clothes and lingered in my— _Jax's_ , I corrected myself—room for a few minutes, then headed out to the bar in hopes Cherry would be there. Jax's mother clearly had ulterior motives and, if I could, I'd like to avoid feeling like the chess piece that I did earlier…or at the very least understand why I was being used as one.

From what I can tell, Jax has a complex history with that woman.

 _Big surprise. With his looks and charm (and the obviously willing suitors I see around the clubhouse) it would really only be surprising if he hasn't had several complex runs with many women._

I winced, recalling a shock of blonde hair and a bright smile that I knew for so many years and now could never know again—and guilt ran hot through my chest. I shook it off but slowed my walk down the clubhouse hallway toward the bar.

 _No_ , I leveled with myself, _this is not comparable to him—to us—and I have to be involved in this, regardless of my feelings toward Jax. This club brought me into this town and it's my home now too…even if no one here knows that yet._

Whatever there is blossoming between Jax and I, I need to be smart about it—and denying it is not that. I am feeling something, whatever it may be.

 _Yes, and I am a complete monster for feeling it._

I rounded the corner to find Cherry behind the bar, half inside the cooler stocking beer. Looking around, I was relieved to see she was the only one in the room. I scooted onto a stool and waited for her to finish. Head still inside the fridge, she reached back to grab another Bud heavy from the floor. Her hand venturing a touch too far, her finger tipped the waiting bottle, eliciting a "Little fucker!" as it clanked onto the concrete flooring.

It didn't break, but was rolling beneath the sink when she popped her head out to hunt for it.

"Oh! Hey, girl." her words rang happily as she noticed me, eyes quickly leaving mine in search of the culprit.

"Hey,' I greeted her, following with, "…Under the sink."

I nodded in the direction the stray beer had gone rolling and she snatched it up, setting it neatly in line at the front of the fridge and shutting the door.

She flattened the now-empty 6-pack boxes and tossed them in a bin behind the bar, then brought her attention back to me. Leaning one arm on the bar and brushing her long bangs out of her eyes, she adopted a devilish expression.

"So," she began dramatically, "family dinner tonight, huh?" she raised her eyebrows playfully.

"You stole my line." I gaped, mocking incredulousness as she laughed.

She took down two rocks glasses from a shelf behind the bar and poured a finger of whiskey in each, sliding one over to me. She must have caught me checking the clock above her (it was barely 10 am) and gave me a defiant shrug as she lifted her drink.

"It's your first family dinner…" she warranted.

I shrugged, secretly grateful for the possibility of soothing my nerves, and we clinked in cheers before shooting the whiskey. I placed my glass beside hers and she washed them and tossed me a rag so I could polish one as she did the other, then returned them to their place on the shelf, making a joke about 'hiding the evidence'.

A few silent moments passed and I took note of Cherry's bemused air.

"I gotta tell ya, I'm a little jealous." she finally relented, teasing as she began to wipe down the bar.  
I pushed out my stool and held my hand up for the other cloth again, which she pulled from her belt loop and tossed to me.

I gave in.

"Jealous…?"

"Um, hell yeah!" and she was suddenly a dog with a bone, "Took me months to get invited to family dinner. I mean…Gem and I had some bad blood in the beginning," she reasoned seemingly more to herself than to me, "we're all good now obviously, but gettin' invited to Gem and Clay's was the first time I knew for sure I'd been accepted here…and let me tell you, I was craving that.

I knew I had done the right thing leaving Nevada because of how I felt about Prospect…it didn't even matter if I was never fully accepted here—because it was only about him, you know? And the rest of the club—they're fuckin' cake compared to Gemma— she's the one who really decides if you're in. So, I just kept putting in my time, workin' here, keeping my head down—just like I did in Indian Hills, except the biggest thing was showin' I was really only here for him, for Prospect, and once Gemma was sure of that, I was suddenly part of the family for real."

She began straightening stools and I followed her lead.

"Eh," I leveled, "I don't think my invite had as much to do with me as it did with pissing off the woman who was here to see Jax today. That was the first time his mom even saw me." I was being honest and was thankful for such an easy in to the curiosities opened up in me this morning.

"Ohhh, the Cutlas?" Cherry rested her leg on one of the chairs, hand on her hip. "Yeah I was wonderin' when she was here.

And, Tess—one thing you can be sure of is whether Gemm's 'seen' you before or not—if you've been around the club— _especially_ around Jax, she knows. She knows about you _and_ she has a plan for you. She's fuckin' omniscient " Cherry laughed, and seeing she had my complete interest continued,

"So, Tara…the Cutlas—she's Jax's ex." she explained.

I nodded knowingly. That much I could have guessed. But exactly how complicated is all this…

Cherry interrupted my thoughts.

"No—like long time ago ex. High school sweethearts kinda thing. Long before me and Prospect or Prospect even being here at all. Only reason I even know is because she came back to Charming recently and the gossip mill around here's been running strong ."

I must have smiled a little at this because she laughed and went on with vigor.

"Seriously! These guys can be as bad as a book club—all you gotta do is be there and have ears when they get started." her tone grew a bit more serious then, "You can hear a lot of shit behind this bar—most of it I wouldn't repeat, but this is harmless. And you should know, being flung in the middle of this like you were…believe me, I know a thing or two about that." she looked up to ground herself, then went on,

"Anyway, I guess her and Jax were bad for each other—super in love, but toxic—you know? That's why Gemma hates her—and because she left. Moved away and left the relationship and Jax behind—went to school to be a doctor. She's been workin' at the hospital now that she's back."

I nodded, taking it all in and thanking my lucky stars Tara wasn't my doctor the other day.

Cherry started back up in a more serious tone, nudging my arm and making sure she had my attention, "She hasn't been around here, Tess. I would know. And I really don't think it's anything. I mean the way Jax looks at you—"

I interrupted, "Nah, we barely know each other. It's really not even my business."

Cherry went on, "Girl, when it's there, it's there. I knew with Prospect after one goddamn dance." she pulled her hair up and returned her hand to her hip, grounding herself to continue.

"Listen, for now, just know Tara's not anything to worry about. Plus Jax's got enough on his mind with—"

To my dismay, Cherry stopped abruptly at the sound of people outside the door. And she was right to pause when she did, Jax, Bobby, and Opie pushed in moments later.

Opie and Bobby pulled up two chairs at the right end of the bar and Cherry moved to serve them as Jax made his way to me. He was all light, wearing a smile that lit up his face and eyes and I was surprised when he moved in to kiss my cheek, casual as can be.

I smiled to myself at how he could pull these things off—kissing a cheek, touching my knee, tacking a 'darlin' on to the end of a sentence—things that normally would make me cringe coming from an almost-stranger, but he made them feel so genuine I barely noticed them, save for that they made me feel warm inside, the way thinking of home might.

"Cherry puttin' you to work?" he wondered loud enough for her to hear.

"Yeah, and she's hired…didn't even have to ask her to wash down the bar like I have to with the girls." Cherry fired back.

Clay and Tig walked in and moved over to the bar where Cherry was already pouring their drinks.

Jax stayed near me but looked back at Cherry, "Gemma called—says she has errands and wants you two to do the shopping without her and meet her at the house this afternoon. She'll be back here in about an hour and give you the list."

"Sounds good to us." Cherry shot me a wink.

"God help us," Clay joked, holding up his glass, "Gem's got errands…"

The guys solemnly held up their drinks in jest and Jax smiled, tugging the arm of my shirt in signal to follow him.

"You got a minute?" he asked privately.

I nodded, answering "Sure," thinking maybe he wanted to give me a run down on what to expect tonight, or a how-to survive, or maybe he was uninviting me?  
I took careful note of my emotions—of how much I hoped the latter wasn't the case, and I followed him as he started down the hall.

But, he went past his room—which I assumed would be our destination, so I trailed him all the way down to the end of the hall to a metal door on the right, up a set of stairs and, in an unexpected twist, hoisted out what must be a fire escape and onto the roof.

He continued to a wall and leaned shoulder against it and I followed suit, wondering how often he comes up here. His eyes were on me, and my heart sank and sped when I noticed the lightness from his expression earlier had faded.

Keeping his gaze locked on me, I was surprised when instead of beginning a conversation, he instead slowly reached his hand toward my face, thumb grazing my temple as his fingers trailed then rested at my jaw. I closed my eyes and took a breath to steady myself. When I opened them his expression was still serious. He then all at once shook his head, whispered " _fuck it,_ " and flicked the cigarette that was in his other hand to the ground.

I stayed still as stone as his head moved to me meet me, reaching to gently take the other side of my face. His lips met mine and I opened to him, hands grasping too as I noticed tears stinging the back of my eyes. Our mouths and lips and hands moved with each other unrelentingly and expertly, like ocean waves might move together in a storm. And I knew then that I knew this man— I knew him in my bones and my spirit and my blood—and inside I was singing for him. After a minute or an hour, he pulled away and stepped back and we stood there, water threatening our eyes as we stared at the other, like we had somehow ended up teetering on the edge of the earth, neither sure exactly how we had come to be here. After a couple of breaths, he let out a small laugh and I did too—because though neither of us knew how we got here, to the edge of the world, we both had known—instinctively and undoubtedly—from the moment we saw each other, that it is exactly where we would be standing.

We watched people come and go from the garage and the clubhouse for a few minutes and I fought the very strong urge to touch him again.

Taking his eyes from the parking lot below us, he brought his attention back to me.

"I had to kiss you, Tess, in case shit changes now." he explained. He had a way of communicating authority with his eyes that told you when it was serious, when to really listen—and I wondered again if it came from his position as VP.

"There are things you've got to hear from me and not from mouths around a table."

I leaned on the wall and nodded for him to go on, thinking that now may be a good time for me to lay some things out as well— _that I'll be staying in Charming, to start, and why I'm here at all._

Before I had the chance to think of how I would say what I should, he started again.

"I have a baby boy, brand new. Abel. He's in the hospital premature." he looked down for only a moment then found me with my brow furrowed, nodding dumbly—at least that's how I felt.  
Not what I was expecting, and more complicated than I would have guessed…the mother—Tara? _No, Cherry would have told me that._

Before my mind could race any further, he went on.

"He was premature because his mom's a junkie. We were married but split—I was living here, barely even saw her all throughout the pregnancy. Gemma found her on the floor of my house, needle in her arm…no one had a clue she'd been using." for a moment I thought he was finished, but he continued, "and the woman you saw this morning is my ex. I honestly have no real idea what she's doing around here but I can guess—and Tess, I'm not interested in any of that shit."

I could only shake my head in understanding, trying to find words. "You don't have to say anything and I don't mean to dump all this shit on you. Hell, I wasn't even sure if I should if you're just going to up and leave, but in case you don't, however long you're around here for—it's just a matter of time until you were gonna hear it, and maybe you already did, but at dinner tonight around any of the wives and girls cooking today, just be aware that sometimes they take awhile to warm up.

I don't want any of them using my shit as ammunition to try to figure out if you're worthy of being here, or whatever self righteous bullshit tends to go on when there's new blood around the club—and that's including from my mother."

I nodded, thankful, and reflected on his intuitiveness. Somehow I was reminded of the manuscript he read to me on my first night, but the memory was like a dream or deja vu; I couldn't quite piece together the bridge between the thoughts.

Now, I supposed it was my turn.

"I didn't know—well, not all of it, Jax. Thank you for telling me." I met his eyes to convey my earnestness. I was thankful to him for baring all of this to me so soon, and also to the stars or universe or whatever kismet made him tell me at all, because it meant he felt the weight of this too, no matter how new we were to each other. So I did the same.

"Jax, I'm not going to up and leave. I can't—because Charming is where I was headed when I left Connecticut."

And just like that the man before me was a new one, on guard, expression twisted into confusion and wariness, and so I let my words spill out as quickly and seamlessly as I could make them.

"I didn't know I was here, or exactly how close—not until being in the van with Prospect when he was taking me to the hospital. When I saw the sign for Charming…that's when I knew." the guard dropped a bit, which I took as encouragement to go on.

"I'm meeting my sister here—we're going to be living in an old family friend's house. Starting over I guess. She isn't here yet, and I'm not supposed to be either. If it wasn't for the Mayan's I would have driven right by. Charming has been the plan for a while, but I wasn't ready and I've been just—riding…until, until I guess maybe Charlie could get here too? I'm not sure. I just wasn't ready." I wanted to stop here but the lingering confusion on his face wouldn't let me. I knew I was doing a shit job explaining this mess, my mess, so I took a breath and tried to begin again.

"My sister's husband has been abusing her, and ever since I found out I've been trying to get her out of there, away from him. She's pregnant and her husband is a cop and he's crazy, so we've been biding our time until she could run away. He doesn't know about this town—neither of us has ever even been here."  
As I tried to think of how to begin my own story he spoke, "That explains what your sister's running from. What about you?"

I could see that his question wasn't being asked with callousness or even out of impatience—but like I had predicted, he was no stranger to nomadic rides or the shattering catalysts that drives a person to take one.

I swallowed hard and said the words whose definition had pushed me from my hometown, the ones I had tried to outrun for three thousand miles.

"I was running from being the girl with the dead fiancé."

The words didn't fly from the air and puncture me like I thought they would. I didn't feel a thing. And I realized then that despite my refusal to say them aloud through all these miles and encounters, I always was _her_ in my head. Every single day, and each and every mile, I had written my definition in gasoline and street signs and pavement— _the girl with the dead fiance_ —Only she would ride across the country alone.

Jax was nodding, and we stood for a moment seeing each other—not more clearly than we had before—but perhaps in more depth.

I took a breath in, prepared to go on, to tell him—I'm not sure what, maybe to explain that Alex was the only man I had ever been with, that he died during a drunken night out with his friends blowing off steam after a fight between the two of us—one we probably would never have recovered from. Maybe I was going to tell him about the guilt I felt, for the fight and for the truth of it, or never telling anyone more about it, but Jax stopped me when he reached out and kissed me once slowly, saying _that's enough for today_. Saying, " _It's okay, darlin'_."  
And a little piece of me went dark inside just as another lit up, because it was true. It was okay right now, on this roof, in this moment when it should be anything but.

So I tugged his cut to signal for him to follow me, just like he'd done to get me out here, and I headed inside and didn't turn around once to check behind me because I knew he would be right there.


	14. Settle

**For some reason this chapter was hard for me to get out. I must have written and rewritten it ten times. Here it is, along with a shorter one right after. Reviews are still MUCH appreciated, I absolutely love hearing from you all!**

* * *

Being with Cherry is easy. We sit in comfortable silence on our way to the grocery store, save for her humming along to the Allman Brothers songs that are drifting through the radio. Sunlight pours through the van's windshield and the windows were down. Sometimes I hum along too.

We pull into what I assume is Charming's only grocery store right around noon. Most of the guys had left the clubhouse just before we did, once again riding off under the typical, mysterious guise of _Club Business_. Today though, they had been acting silly and lighthearted. Already I could sense the days when their missions weighed heavier on the Club, whether that be due to danger or difficulty, I wasn't sure. Jax had said he'd meet us at "Gem's" but that he might be a little later than the others. I'm anxious to see him after the conversation we had on the roof this morning. I need more time to gauge him and our situation, the way you sometimes do after revealing some profound truth to someone, especially someone you barely know. I'm ashamed to feel this way, but revealing the loss of my fiancé Alex does not concern me in this particular situation the way my revealing my plans to stay in Charming does. Deep down I know Alex and the loss of him will always be inside of me, less buried and more carved out, forever changing my internal landscape. But staying in Charming has crept over the lives of my sister and her baby, not to mention it's the only plan I have. If Jax were to not trust or accept my being here, things could become a lot more difficult. Something inside of me tells me that he doesn't hope for me to be something frivolous—having that conversation at all was wager enough against that—but his situation is complex too, more so than I could have imagined only hours ago. More than just a past love hanging around or even a string of exes, but a baby and an ex-wife and a home that almost, in a sense, belonged to her. One thing I'm sure of, it's time to put a stake of my own in Charming.

"Alright girl, you ready?" Cherry pulls me from my reverie, pushing her sunglasses onto her head and wriggling her eyebrows.

"Got the list?" I inquire, hopping down from the van.

"Got it." she took it from the back pocket of her denim cutoffs and shook at me, holding it between two fingers. Then she kind of stood back, looked at me and grinned, shaking her head.

"…Did I sit in something or something?" I peer down at myself self consciously.

"No, no!" she laughs, playfully pushing my arm. "I just can't wait to see their faces." she gives me a quick tug toward the store and heads for the carts. I follow her, bewildered.

It's not a minute before I know exactly what she was talking about.

Inside the store, almost every pair of eyes is on us. To be truthful, I've become accustomed to the glaring of strangers that began almost directly after I hit puberty. Men will look at any girl that's tan and blonde, but this was over the top. What's more, almost everyone we pass says hello, nods, or gives an extra-friendly smile. The few who do not immediately seem to recognize Cherry lingere a moment on her SAMCRO teeshirt and then graciously nod. It's a little surreal, and to be honest, just about the exact opposite from what I would expect going into a small town grocery store decked out in any kind of MC gear or memorabilia. The one exception to our very homey welcome are the few younger female shoppers, whose stares are anything but friendly and, I notice, seem to be mostly directed at me.

After one particularly undeniable visual assault in the dairy aisle, I relent, turning to Cherry, "Okay, what's the problem?!"

Cherry laughs and shakes her head. "You're new meat." she shrugs as she walks on. "And it probably doesn't help that you're gorgeous."

I roll my eyes then raise my eyebrows to convey to her I still don't get it.

She takes a deep breath and pauses, resting her boot on the bottom rack of the cart. "Listen, most people in this town? They love Samcro. The club protects them and their families by keeping Charming safe. Drugs, crime, you name it—it doesn't set foot in our town. People are thankful for that, it's _invaluable_. To a lot of these folks, the guys in the club are their heroes. To the rest, they at the very least respect them—with the exception of a very small few… you'll know 'em when you see 'em, believe me."

"The younger girls?" I ask, perplexed.

"God no!" Cherry laughs, "They're just wannabe Crow Eaters. Actually, not even that…most of them have eyes exclusively for Jax. But, every member's got 'fans'." She rolls her eyes and goes on, "Anyway, that's why word of you traveled so fast. New girl hanging out at the club, seen around on Jax's bike, seen with the guys at the hospital, has a goddamn bike of her own _and_ looks like you do," she paused a second and kind of raked her eyes over me, "If I wanted him I'd be jealous too."

I look around a little uncomfortably.

"Don't worry about it—those girls are nothing. You'll see some of them hanging around the club on big party nights ogling after whoever their favorite is. Mostly, the guys think they're pathetic. Well, except Tig. Don't get me wrong though…sometimes they get exactly what they want."

I nod my head in understanding.

"Listen," Cherry holds my gaze, "I'm not going to lie to you, Jax isn't a saint when it comes to women—what guy would be when they can get almost any girl they want? But I know this—he's untouchable. Everyone knows it. That's probably a big part of the reason all these bimbos are sniffing around you this way. He's a challenge. All of them want to be the one that he actually gives a shit about, but no ones ever gotten anywhere close, except Tara and they were just kids. So them seeing you on his bike, and him with you downtown the other day, they're green. Don't worry about them…." she pauses walking for another moment. "Well, don't let 'em out of your sight either. Snaky bitches."

 _Untouchable. Could everything I think I'm feeling be a product of his charms, then?_

Cherry must have picked up on my expression because she adds, "I've never seen Jax react to _any_ girl like he does with you, Tess." she held my gaze, "For real."

Embarrassed I was so transparent and annoyed at myself for feeling alarmed, I just nod, wondering why I couldn't have figured all that out myself. In high school, Alex had been the subject of many girls' crushes and I'd endured similar cattiness. But, that was different—there was never any question that Alex was with me.

I snag the list from the cart to distract myself. "Elbow macaroni." I nod up to the pasta on the shelf behind Cherry.

She walks over to it, a devilish smirk working its way onto her face.

"What?!" I laugh.

"Go long," she challenges, nodding for me to back up down the aisle.

I pause only a moment before jogging backwards down the aisle toward the end, pulling the cart in front of me. Cherry stands in the middle of the aisle, faux throwing as I move the cart to match her direction. A few men have stopped behind me to watch us, crossing their arms and smirking good-naturedly. Finally, Cherry tosses the box of pasta, which hurtles through the air, more upward than toward me. I do a quick jog toward the box and move the cart slightly to the right, catching the macaroni. The men clap and laugh, shaking their heads and moving on. The girl with the death stare from earlier rolls her eyes at us. Knowing what I now know—that her main life mission is probably to sleep with Jax—she suddenly becomes very annoying to me. Without missing a beat I give her my best menacing pageant girl wave and when her eyes get wide with disbelief, I blow her a kiss.

Cherry laughs loudly at my gesture then immediately directs her attention toward the girl. "What, you got a problem with football? That's just unAmerican!"

The girl ducks into the next aisle.

We collect the rest of the items on Gemma's list relatively quickly, and I figure that Cherry does most of the shopping for the clubhouse by her familiarity with the layout of the store. It's still early afternoon when we arrive at Gemma's house, which I do my best to act unfamiliar with by following Cherry's lead. There are already several cars parked in the driveway and some lined onto the street. Upon bringing the bags into the house I see that the crowd inside is all women, mostly Gemma's age, some younger, many with tattoos, low hung jeans, and ripped teeshirts, many in Samcro attire. I recognize some of the faces from the Clubhouse, including Red's. I'm surprised by the many friendly smiles and waves upon my entrance, even a few hugs and _you must be Tess!_ 's. Still, some of the women prefer to eye me silently, to which I reply with a small, genuine smile. It's honestly more welcoming than I had expected. Still, entirely overwhelming.

The day passes quickly though, prepping food and readying the house. I'm still slow on my feet with my injuries, my ribs providing the most discomfort by far, but I'm thankful for having something to busy myself with and for Cherry's company, which makes me feel a bit less of a newcomer. My main concern was being approached by Gemma in full mama-bear mode, the possibility of getting barraged with the questions everyone wants to know: _What are you doing here? Why Charming? What do you want with my son? Why were you riding alone? Why leave home at all._ After a few hours though, I figure I'm off the hook for now and deduce that Gemma is more of a lay-back-and-wait kind of creature, ready to take all of me in and come to her own conclusions about my intentions before she asks me straight-out to see if it matches up. For the most part, she fusses with the details—setting the table, picking the serving bowls, running out to get last-minute things, and sitting with Red and a blonde haired lady on the couch intermittently, passing around a joint. I dice vegetables, shuck corn, and make an enormous salad, fully aware I'm under Gemma's watch, and try my best to forget where the silverware and dishes were kept. In my casual observation throughout the afternoon, I decide I like her.

When the sky turns pink, the sound of motorcycles seem to reverberate through the streets and house, where the doors leading off of the dining room and onto the porch are open. One by one, Club members begin to arrive. First is Bobby with two loaves of homemade cinnamon dessert bread that smell heavenly. Upon walking into the door, he's descended upon with cheek kisses and hugs, the bread taken from his hands and given a prominent place on what has become a dessert table in the corner. It's clear Bobby is a fan favorite with the Samcro women as they fuss over him, and with that warm demeanor, I can see why. Next Chibs and Juice arrive, shortly followed by Prospect. Clay arrives along with Tig, a pair I'm realizing is typical. The stream continues until Opie walks in and goes immediately to who I assume to be his wife, a woman with short, brown hair who arrived less than an hour ago and has mostly kept to herself, save sharing some pleasantries with Gemma. With Prospect there, I've lost Cherry's company, so I busy myself in the kitchen to calm my nerves. I run a sharp knife through herbs to make a homemade dressing and watch out the back window overlooking the porch as the men take over the grill and joke together. The beer and wine are flowing freely now, and a warmth has radiated throughout the place. I realize that already and until further notice, it's of little matter to me what being affiliated to this club means. Thus far, these people had been good to me—regardless of how the accident happened—and I have no desire to cast judgement. Regardless of the cause of the accident, I chose that road myself and more than anything it's an issue of timing. And, Jax has gone above and beyond to "protect me". _Hopefully a little too beyond._ My mind goes to a thought I can't kick, disturbed at how much protection Jax thinks I need. It makes me wonder how much danger I could actually be in, and for how long?

Here though, I feel safe. I smile as I look around the bunch that surrounds me. Gemma catches my gaze from her observatory seat in the corner, smiles and nods knowingly. I smile back.

Jax walks in then, wearing his signature white tee under his cut in this warm weather. He says his hellos to the group of women immediately near the door, but his eyes float to me while he doles out hugs. Next, he greets Gemma with a kiss on the cheek, nodding when she seems to ask him a series of questions.

Chibs walks in off the porch then, all smiles and seemingly a little buzzed. "Ah, Jackie boy!" he exclaims loudly, "You've made it just in time." Jax shoots me an _oh God_ look and tries not to laugh.

"Oh yeah?" Jax questions, giving into whatever Chibs' story will be.

Tig walks in off the porch as well, an evil grin breaking onto his face, clearly wanting to get in on the banter, whatever it is.

Cherry shoots me a look, biting a smile and shaking her head and I wonder what I'm missing.

"Yep," Tig begins, "Somebodies gotta keep these chicks in line."

Tig's eyes move from me to Cherry and my jaw drops a bit. _Oh please, no._

"I resent that!" Cherry pipes up nonchalantly in a way I wish I felt right now, bringing her beer to her lips. Prospect playfully puts his arm around her.

"Oh, _really_?" Jax breaks out into a full grin and raises his eyebrows to Tig, who is nodding and diverts his eyes to me. He playfully crosses his arms and leans back on the living room wall, dramatically preparing himself for the story.

"Yep," says a slightly slurring Chibs, "sounds like our lovely gals 'ere were terrorizing the local market."

"Huh." Jax says amusedly, looking at me in feigned shock.

Tig pops a pretzel into his mouth and chews slowly, "Turned the produce aisle into a football field." he fake tosses an imaginary ball to Chibs, who theatrically "catches" it...and if it were possible to die of embarrassment, I'm sure I'd no longer be standing.

" _And_ Tess was blowing kisses at the lil' blondie Louise from the gas station." Chibs raises his eyebrows as his smile gleams, looking quite proud of himself.

I register Gemma stifling a laugh at this and Jax failing to stop his as I contemplate whether today would be my first time ever blushing, if my burning face and ears were any indication. Chibs walks over to me and puts his hand around my shoulder before going on, "We knew we liked ya girlie, I says, ' _there's a fire in tha' one_ ' didn' I, boys?"

"It was the pasta aisle, not produce." Cherry quips, scooting past Tig to get another beer. "And ' _Louise_ '" she emphasized the death-stare girl's name, likely because she's never cared to know it, "was being a total bitch!" she yelled from the kitchen.

Gemma let out a full belly laugh at this, as did a few of the other women and I relax a bit.

Released from Chibs' hold, Jax's arm is on my side almost immediately, guiding me out the door to the crowded porch and away from the laughs.

"C'mon, trouble maker." he whispers.

I follow, thankful to get out of there at the moment. Once outside, Jax nods down the stairs of the porch to the expansive backyard where a small gazebo sits. I move down the stairs and feel his hand trailing my back. Under his touch, my body surprises me, coming alive the way he makes me against his touch and I suddenly need to be near him, am hungry for him. The moment I step off the final step I move beneath the porch, opting for a moment of privacy before stepping into the gazebo and back into the view of the people above.

I back myself up against one of the beams beneath the porch and meet his eyes, which are already alight with fire. I see my need for him is reflected as he reaches out for me and closes the space between us in a fraction of a moment, instantly our mouths and hands on one another, hungry for each other. Our tongues trace each other, before he slides his mouth over my jaw, trailing kisses down my neck. I put my head back on the beam behind me as he pushes himself against me. I can feel his hardness then and my body answers him seemingly of its own accord, my hips moving forward to meet him. His hands, delicate and urgent all at once, trace my side down...Then a loud laugh erupts above us when Happy reaches the end of a story's punchline and we both catch our breath, slowly pulling away from each other. He smiles and tugs my hand to the gazebo where we stand and I will my heart to beat in time again.

He reaches into his pocket and lights a cigarette with that grin he so often wears, taking an inhale and breathing out before he leans back and begins.

"So…" he says, and I can tell I'm in for it, "Raisin' hell in the grocery store, huh?" He bites his lip, presumably to hide the smirk.

"I dealt with it very well for the first 15 minutes," I cross my arms in defiance, "I felt like I was in a zoo."

"Oh c'mon, you gotta be used to people staring." He raises his eyebrows as he quips back jokingly, "Woulda been way worse if you were wearin' that teeshirt of mine you're so fond of stealing…"

 _Oh God…_ I put my face in my hands, embarrassed.

"It's all good, darlin', I like it better when you wear it without pants anyway." he pushes further, clearly enjoying getting under my skin.

If today isn't the day I blush, I never will.

Jax's expression grows serious then and he gets down to the point, "The women alright to you today?" he nods up to the house.

"Everyone was sweet." I answer honestly.

"And Gemma?" he asks.

"She didn't say much, but she smiled." I try to gauge whether this is good or bad from his expression.

He just nods and says, "Good."

"Listen, Jax, since we're out here, there's something I want to talk to you about." I take a breath and he settles back against the gazebo beam. He's serious again, almost worried as he nods his head for me to continue.

"You know now that I'm staying in Charming and…since I'm here, I think I should start settling in a bit."

He relaxes a bit and nods and I go on, "I've got a storage unit somewhere around here, I paid a friend to bring a bunch of stuff out in a U-Haul when they were moving to San Francisco. I can't move into the Anka house yet, but I need to find a place to set up shop."

"Shop?" he looks at me quizzically.

I hold out my fingers, waving them gently to display a myriad of silver and turquoise rings that barely ever leave my hands. "I'm a jeweler."

A smile breaks out across his face and he shakes his head for some reason unknown to me.

"My torch and tools and workbench are all here, most of my materials too..." I trail off then gain back my voice for my mission, "but I need a space."

He walks over and kisses the top of my head so sweetly it scares me.

"We'll find you a shop, darlin'," he says, pulling away, "I'll make sure one of the guys and the van is available for you. They can take you into town tomorrow. I'll take you to the storage place myself. Gemma's been on my ass to go back and get some more stuff for the baby in one of her units."

 _Of course he's not going to let me go into town alone._

I nod and he motions up to the porch, where people are starting to crowd inside. "C'mon, let's get you somethin' to eat."


	15. Chieftain

_Jax_

The sheets are thrown back next to me, Tess trying not to move the bed as she gets up, tiptoeing toward the bathroom. The clock reads 5:58AM in my room at the clubhouse. She's trying not to wake me, but I barely slept.

"Mornin' darlin'." I push myself up in bed and reach for the pack of cigarettes on the end table.

She pauses and turns around, wearing my teeshirt. It goes halfway down her thighs. Underneath it though, I know she's wearing a pair of black panties. Despite the little sleep I got, I don't remember her putting it on. I went to sleep without a shirt. She must have stolen it from the chair at some point.

"That's my favorite outfit of yours." I tease as she leans against the bathroom door, picking up the joke I'd made about it last night.

She moves slowly back to sit by me, eliciting a sharp inhale when she makes contact with the bed. I catch her eyeing the bottles of pain medicine they gave her for her injuries, but she quickly looks away from them. I know she hates taking them, the polar opposite of my ex. I can't help but to look at her bruises and road-rash and feel a pang of guilt that turns to resolve. Like most of the night, I'm anxious for the deeds of the this day. To finally get some revenge for her. _And for me._

"One isn't gonna hurt you." I try to convince her.

"No," she shakes her head, "I want to be clear for today."

I push up off the bed and start gathering clothing from the drawers of my dresser.

"I'll have Prospect take you in the van to look at what's available for real estate. The rest of us will be gone for awhile, but I should be back by the middle of the afternoon. If I got time, I'll take you to storage."

She nods. "I can wait until after you shower…" she offers.

"Nah, I'll shower later. Go ahead."

I pause rifling through the drawers to watch her walk into the bathroom, wavy, golden hair cascading down the middle of her back. I want her more than I think I've ever wanted anyone. Last night when we came back from family dinner we fell into bed but something stopped us from being together completely. Even Tara had given it up to me quickly, but with Tess…I dunno, somethin' makes me want to wait a bit. At the same time, I want to meet her in the shower right now, I want to lose myself in her, this galaxy of a woman. I want to fuck her so good she never leaves Charming. But, the water's already been on for almost a minute and I need to finish getting geared up before she comes out and knows something's goin' on today.

I put on my belt, put my knife in its sheath at my hip and strap on the bullet proof vest. I hear the shower turn off as I pull a shirt over my head before layering on my cut. I'm tucking the gun from the bedside table into the back of my jeans as she emerges from the bathroom, dressed in worn jeans and a white tank that accentuates her tan, her hair still dripping wet, waves already visible.

She eyes me somewhat warily, and I wonder if it's in my head. I peer in the mirror, trying to determine how obvious the extra bulk of the vest under my shirt an cut is. Already I find myself wanting to be too transparent with her. At the same time, the other half of me is fuckin' terrified of her finding anything out. I don't want to scare her away once she finds out some of the seedier things this club means. She ain't a sweetbutt and she sure as hell ain't Wendy, and she's far from Tara too-who was so close but so far from right. The closest I've ever gotten sure, but we were still missing the mark, always beating to different tunes.

When she sits down on the bed to put on her boots, I can tell she's holding her breath. There's a too-long pause between pulling on the second boot and I pretend to busy myself at the desk facing away from her but watch her closely from the mirror. Quickly, she grabs the bottle of pills and shakes one into her hand and I know she must be hurting. The recommended dose is two, but she takes only one. It's all I need to push me out of the door and get me toward spilling the Mayan blood that pushed her off her bike. When my hand touches the doorknob, she stands up.

"Jax, wait."

I turn to see her eyeing me, and brace myself for a Tara-style interrogation, positive she's picked up on the vest and the danger it means-danger she's never even fully been told about. Instead, she's rummaging through a compartment of her bag, then apparently finds what she's looking for and holds it in her closed hand as she closes the space between us.

"Here, I have a feeling you should wear this. For luck." she opens her hand to show a bulky sterling silver ring fashioned to look like the head of an Indian chief in full headdress. The headdress is inlayed with turquoise and some kind of red stone. It's fuckin' badass. Somethin' most of the guys would pay for.

"It's the last piece I made before I left," she explains and I can tell she's slightly embarrassed at how quickly she's trying to get the words out, "I liked it so much I decided to carry it with me and have been looking for someone it seemed to belong to. It was always meant for you, I think."

Inside me is a feeling I'm foreign to, different than desire or intrigue that sometimes comes over with me with women. It's something personal and so vast I'm afraid to fall into it. _Like I have any fuckin' choice._

I slide the ring onto the middle finger of my right hand. It fits perfectly. I don't have words to offer this woman who defies them, so I reach out and touch her jaw, pointing her face up toward me. I kiss her deeply, touching her carefully, not letting her get too close to my chest.

"I'll see you in a bit." are the only words I can muster, and I shut the door behind me.

"Prospect!" I holler, as I pass my dad's bike and walk toward the main room of the clubhouse, where I can see some of the guys have already gathered.

"In the garage." Cherry offers, in early because Prospect's opening the garage no doubt.

"Prospect!" I yell outside, pushing open the door to the lot.

He comes around the side of the garage, keys from the BMW that someone's just dropped off on in his hand.

"Hey Jax,"

I interrupt, "Take Tess into town today, she needs to check out any commercial real estate that's available. Take the van."

Prospect nods, "Got it."

"Sac, keep a close eye on her today." I convey my seriousness. "I fuckin' mean it, man. Don't let her out of your sight."

He nods again, "Yeah, okay. I won't, man."

As I turn to walk away, he yells after me.

"Nice ring."

I yell back without turning around, seeing Opie and Bobby pulling in, "Not even for a minute."


	16. Flashback

**Hey all, I was planning to have this as a small segment of a chapter start, but figured since it's a flashback it might be better off on its own, plus it gives you a little something! The next full chapter is coming this weekend**

 **Did everyone like the last two chapters? I love hearing from you!**

 **More soon,**

 **xx**

* * *

 _Flashback to the night of family dinner_

Tig and Clay pull up to the stop sign alone, still far from the house where the club and company are beginning to gather.

The intersection is vacant and Tig turns to Clay to check in.

"Hey man, we all set for tomorrow?"

Jax was planning to go after the two Mayans involved in Tess's crash, which is almost as problematic for him and Clay as it is for the Mayan duo.

Clay nods his head gravely. "We're good, brother." He keeps his arthritic hand clenched around the brake though, which Tig takes to mean he'll go on. "Marcus agreed to sacrifice the two little lambs involved…"

Tig nods in relief. They both knew that Jax wouldn't quit until he'd gotten some revenge, or at least some answers. Plus, when Bobby brought up his theory during Church that the Mayans had something on them that day that made them desperate enough to get away to kick out a stranger's bike, both Tig and Clay knew they were heading toward being found out. The rest of the club has no idea about the deal they'd recently struck with the Mayans, and they were getting too close. Drugs would never go over well or easy with Samcro.

"So what'd we give Marcus in return?" he asks the President, knowing that Marcus wasn't about to give up two of his men without some kind of compensation.

"Eh," Clay shrugs, "Wasn't that bad. They were just a couple of runners, luckily. He wasn't too attached...was ready to kill both of 'em himself for getting a third party involved. Still, " he paused, getting to the heart of it, "had to set 'em up with the One-Niners in return."

Tig tightened his right hand and peered around the still-empty street. "Marcus wants to take out the middle man?" He set his jaw. The middle man was _them_.

"Yep." Clay confirmed, "We're out of the dope biz for the time being. Just gonna have to earn straight..." he joked, patting the gun at his side.

Tig smiled. If the Pres was good with it, he had to be. But, his face grew serious once more as he looked over to Clay.

"How do we know the runners won't rat? If they're new to the life, they might blow the lid off our deal to protect their asses once Jax gets after them…"

Clay smiled genuinely and revved his bike, yelling a bit over the now growling engine. " _That_ , my man," he said with a grin, "is why I got you."

Tig returns Clay's grin with a knowing nod and the two take off into the black.


End file.
